


Wrong Place, Wrong Time

by Relevant_Peach



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mpreg, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Reconciliation, Wandmaker Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 70,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relevant_Peach/pseuds/Relevant_Peach
Summary: Draco Malfoy would do anything to find a cure for his son's life-threatening disease.  When he crosses paths with an old acquaintance, it unleashes a string of events that will uncover secrets and deceptions.  Will Draco be able to look past the misdeeds of his old lover's past?  Will Harry ever find the family he longs for?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 198
Kudos: 523





	1. Part 1

When Draco Malfoy was a child, such was his dislike of waking early in the morning, that the house elves used to squabble about whose turn it was to rouse him. When any of the elves misbehaved, his Father would grimly punish them by assigning them the duty of waking Master Draco for a week, and it was a far more effective behaviour modification than any other. However, things change as people grow older, and, despite his continued hatred of mornings, Draco was no longer the spoiled brat he’d once been, and he considered this a significant marker of his personal growth. 

This morning, he was roused, not by his usual alarm spell, but by an urgent little voice in his ear saying, “Papa.” His eyes flew open, and he stared, a little blearily, at his four-year-old son.

“Scorpius, you good?”

“I’m good, Papa. The sun is awake, though.”

“So it is,” Draco agreed, stretching and giving a final longing glance at his fluffy duvet. “Shall we have pancakes for breakfast?”

“No, Papa, not hungry.”

“Well, maybe we’ll try a little something,” Draco said. This wasn’t the time to begin a battle over eating. Maybe after he wrestled Scorpius into his clothes.

With the help of Scorpius’ favourite house elf, Kattie, it wasn’t long before both Draco and Scorpius were bathed, dressed and sitting at the breakfast table. Scorpius was happily describing to Draco the eating habits of the Hungarian Horntail, his current favourite breed of Dragon.

When he paused to take a breath, Draco spotted his chance, and cut in smoothly. “So, today, Scorpius, do you remember our plans?”

Scorpius regarded him a little balefully. “Yes, Papa, we’re going to see the Vampire, and then you’ll get me a new book, but only if I’m good, and only if I don’t cry.”

Draco grinned, “I doubt that Healer Cici would appreciate being called a Vampire.”

“Well, she shouldn’t be so interested in my blood,” Scorpius replied, a little imperiously. “Can I be done?”

Draco eyed the plate. Three bites. They’d been sitting there for nearly an hour, and his birdlike child had eaten precisely three bites of his pancake. “Are you sure you can’t eat a little more?”

“I’m sure, Papa. I’ll explode.”

“Very well,” Draco sighed, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “But you’ll have to eat a little more at lunchtime today.” Scorpius eyed him with the face of a child who had no intention of eating more at lunchtime, but Draco didn’t have the ability to climb that particular mountain at present.

“Will Mama be coming to the Healer’s office?”

“Yes, she’ll meet us there.”

“Good, I don’t think she knows much about the Hungarian Horntail.” Scorpius wriggled down from his booster seat, and ran from the room to get his model Dragon. 

They arrived through the Healer’s floo ten minutes early for their appointment, and Scorpius immediately made his way to the books and toys in the corner. After checking in, Draco sat in a chair nearby, and watched as his son chatted to the little girl who was there as well. “How old are you?” The little girl was eying him appraisingly.

“Four and-a-half,” Scorpius replied.

“You’re little,” she said doubtfully. “You don’t look four.” Draco stiffened, ready to intervene.

“And a half,” Scorpius corrected. “I’m little because I have Fanconi Anemia, and it means I don’t grow as quickly as other kids.”

“I don’t know what that is,” the girl replied.

“It means that my blood works funny, and so I get sick sometimes, and tired. And I have to take potions.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes, but my Papa says I’m braver than a dragon.”

Draco felt tears prickling at the back of his throat, and swallowed hard to prevent a wail from escaping. If he allowed himself to, he’d never stop crying. Fortunately, his breakdown was diverted by the arrival of his ex-wife. 

“Mama!” Scorpius cried, and ran to the floo, wrapping his arms around his Mother.

“Hello darling,” Astoria said. “You good?”

“I’m good, Mama. Papa, look! Mama’s here!”

“I see,” Draco answered, rising to greet the new arrival. He placed a kiss on her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “You good, ‘Tori?”

“I’m good, Draco,” she confirmed. The question-and-answer confirmation (“You good?”, “I’m good”) had become a coping strategy that the entire family had used throughout Scorpius’ childhood. When he’d been born, so tiny and fragile, and as he’d coped with so many little illnesses and frailty, the reassurance that they were okay gave them courage. As he’d finally been diagnosed last year with the disease that threatened his life, Draco hadn’t been prepared to become an expert in rare blood disorders, hadn’t been prepared, after having feared for his life throughout his adolescence, to now know a terror so much greater. 

But, when your child was being stalked by a monster, you became a monster-hunter, and you armed yourself with knowledge, and data from clinical trials, and you learned all about the Muggle world, because they’ve done so much more research on genetics and stem cells. And you learned about the internet, and you learned to rely on strangers, Muggles, that you’ve never met. And you saw your son’s healer far more often than you saw your friends or family, and you learned to mop up a nosebleed without batting an eyelash. And you learned the true meaning of mortality, when a new bruise showed up on Scorpius’ delicate little back, but you also learned to smile, and discuss dragons and to convince a stubborn four-year-old to ‘eat one bite, just one more bite, darling’. It had been eleven months since he, Scorpius and Astoria first heard the words ‘Fanconi Anemia’. Eleven short months to have the rug pulled from their feet so brutally that they still hadn’t been able to regain their footing.

Scorpius’ name was called, and Scorpius dragged his Mother by the arm as he raced through the doorway. “Dean,” he said delightedly, as the Mediwizard gave him a high five and gently placed him on the cot in an examining room. “I brung you my dragon to see!”

“Brought,” Draco corrected absently, and Scorpius rolled his eyes.

“Scorp, that’s the nicest one yet,” Dean said, and Scorpius entertained himself by flying the dragon around Dean’s head. Dean gave Draco and Astoria a friendly smile, and cast the standard diagnostics. “Okay buddy,” he said. “Time to appease the Vampire.”

Scorpius’ eyes widened. “See Papa, I told you that Cici was a Vampire,” he said, but he obediently presented an arm, and Dean quickly spelled six vials full. As he left the room, Healer Cici Clarke ducked around him as she entered it. She was in her mid-forties, and Muggleborn, with long dark hair that she wore in a braid, and sparkling blue eyes. When Scorpius had been referred to her, Draco was unsure about her objectivity (there were still Muggleborn shopkeepers in Diagon Alley that refused to serve them), but Cici had been a gift from the Gods. With joint Muggle and Wizarding degrees, she was the most knowledgable specialist available, and Draco and Astoria trusted her explicitly. More importantly, Scorpius adored her.

“Scorp, Draco, Astoria,” she said, “it’s wonderful to see you again. Scorpius, I hope you remembered to bring me the Horntail you were going to show me.”

“I did, Miss Cici!” Scorpius brandishing the dragon. After it had been thoroughly admired, she eyed him appraisingly.

“So, any nosebleeds lately?” Scorpius nodded. “Do you feel more or less tired than usual?” Scorpius shrugged. “When you’re playing with your friends, do you sometimes feel out of breath?” Another nod. “Okay, thanks for telling me that, Scorpius. Do you mind if I ask Mama and Papa some questions?” When Scorpius shook his head, she turned her attention to Draco. “Can I see his journal?” Wordlessly, he passed it over. After his diagnosis, Draco had begun to keep meticulous notes on Scorpius’ day to day occurrences…his energy levels, any illnesses, or new bruises. As the primary caregiver, it helped him keep Astoria up to date, and made conversations with Cici more valuable as well. “Lovely, thanks for that. I’m just going to pop along and see after Scorpius’ blood samples. Back in a tick.” 

“Do you think she’s fixed my blood yet?” Scorpius wondered.

“I hope so,” Draco said, “but we’ll have to wait and see.” Draco’s jitteriness manifested in a bounce in his leg, until Astoria placed a gentle hand on his knee. He smiled gratefully at her. She was truly his best friend, and he was so grateful to be going through this with her. 

It had been ten years ago, when Draco’s Mother had begun seeking a match for Draco, and Astoria’s parents had been seeking out a wealthy suitor for their daughter, that he’d first really gotten to know Astoria. She’d been two years behind he and her sister Daphne at school, and had been so quiet and shy then, he’d barely noticed her. Since her graduation, she had come into her own. She wanted no part of marriage. She wanted to be a lawyer, not a trophy wife who hosted dinners and served on charity boards. But, since the Greengrasses were quite poor, a law degree was unattainable. As they endured the ceremony of a ritual courtship, Draco had been nothing but honest with her. 

“I’m irrevocably gay,” he’d said. “I know that my parents insist upon an heir, and I’m willing to do my duty to the family, but I won’t lie to you and tell you that we’ll have a normal marriage.”

“I’m not really interested in doing things the normal way,” she’d said, tossing her head. “I don’t mind producing one child, if that’s something that you want. I will love him or her, and I’ll be involved, but I want a career more than anything. If you want to discreetly divorce after the baby comes, I wouldn’t fight you for custody, just visitation when schedules allow.”

They’d grinned at one another, and the bargain was struck. And somehow along the way, she’d become the most important person in his life, other than Scorpius. They’d had exactly enough sex to produce Scorpius, and amicably gone their separate ways. True to her word, Astoria was a wonderful Mother, and spent as much time as she could with Scorpius. Her parents, and Draco’s Mother had been furious when they’d divorced, but there’d been no scandal, and neither Draco nor Astoria had allowed their parents to interfere. Scorpius had done a lot to offset their parents’ collective disappointment as well, he allowed.

Cici re-entered the room, and Draco couldn’t read her expression. She sat behind her desk, and opened a file. “I have Scorpius’ results. The numbers aren’t where I’d like them to be, not by a long shot.” She pointed out the comparison between Scorpius’ previous white and red blood cell counts. “His white blood count is significantly lower, which tells us that we’re entering a different stage of the disease. This means that the Androgens that we’ve been using to treat Scorpius aren’t going to help him any longer. And it explains why Scorpius is seeing more infections, bruising and nosebleeds.”

Astoria, a product of her breeding, did not outwardly react in any way, but her fingers tightened around his knee so tightly that Draco could barely keep from grimacing. “So it’s not fixed yet?” Scorpius asked.

“No, Scorpius, it’s not fixed. The only way that we currently have to fix the problem would be through a bone marrow transplant. That means, that we would find someone who has blood that would work well with yours. We would take out a bit of the inside of one of their bones, and we would put that material, called marrow, into you. This bone marrow would then help teach your blood to start producing all of the right things that your body needs.”

“How will we find someone who’s blood gets along with mine?”

“That’s a very good question, and that’s why this is a tricky bit of medicine, Scorp. The best kind of donor is usually a brother or a sister, but because you’re an only child, that makes our search a bit harder.” Cici looked to Draco and Astoria. “You know that a non-sibling donor reduces our success rate by a large margin. For right now, we will begin to use hematopoietic growth factors, which we’ve been seeing some good results from. And, the research being done on gene therapy is very promising, but the science is slower than I’d like.”

“Miss Cici? Can I go play with Dean?”

“Yes, of course you may,” Cici said. Draco helped his son down from the cot, and kissed him on top of his silky white-blond head. Scorpius rolled his eyes at Draco, and bounced out of the room, making dragon noises as he went.

Draco turned back to Astoria and Cici, and allowed himself one single moment. He closed his eyes, and placed his head in his hands, and sighed, just once. Then, he squared his shoulders and said, “Right then. Options?”

“They haven’t changed much, I’m afraid. A sibling donor would be the best option, but I’m certain that you’d have much to discuss before making a decision to have another baby. In addition, you know that the chances of your next child having the same condition are higher than in other families.”

“What if one of us had a child with someone else?” Astoria’s voice was impassive. “It takes each of us to provide the faulty genetic factors, correct?”

“Yes, both parents need to have the same genetic anomaly for this condition to exist. If either of you had a child with another parent, the risks are much lower, if that’s something that you wish to consider. But because the baby would only be a half-sibling, there’s no certainty that they’d be a match. The hematopoietic growth factors will allow us to manage Scorpius’ condition for some time, but it’s difficult to estimate how long. There’s no guarantee.”

“Anything else? Something experimental?” Draco said. He knew he was begging, but he didn’t care. He would crawl on his hands and knees across broken glass if it gave Scorpius a chance. 

“There is a clinical trial using gene therapy available in the Muggle medical system. We can submit Scorpius’ case for consideration, but these cross-discipline experimental therapies require some additional approvals from the Ministry, because of the Statute of Secrecy. If he is a good candidate for the trial, we’d need the Magical-Muggle Relations Department to sign off and become involved.”

“Anything. Please have his case considered,” Draco said. 

“Alright. I studied with the Doctor who’s running the trial. I can have his file and bloodwork sent over today, and get you an answer quite soon. If he’s approved, though, the process to gain Ministry approval can take quite a while. They seem to be chronically understaffed in that Department.”

“Is there anything we can do to rush it through?”

“I’m not sure. The woman who runs the Department is tough, but fair. Maybe if you made an appointment to speak with her, she’d give you an exemption. I’ll floo you tonight to let you know if Scorpius is eligible for inclusion in the trial.”

“Thank you, Cici, for everything.”

“Astoria, Draco, I know that we didn’t get the results that we were hoping for today, but please don’t lose hope. I promise you that I will pursue every opportunity to help Scorpius get better. I’m not giving up on him.”

“Either are we,” Draco said, taking Astoria’s hand and leading her to find their son.

Later that evening, Draco stood in Scorpius’ doorway, watching his son in slumber. His tiny rosebud mouth was wide open, and he was snoring deeply. _Need to check that he’s not getting another sinus infection_ , Draco thought absently. Scorpius clutched his new book tightly in one hand. They’d made it to Flourish and Blotts to obtain his reward for his good behaviour at the Healer’s, but Scorpius had been too tired to visit any of the other shops. As Scorpius snuffled, and rolled over, the blanket slipped from his shoulders. Draco tucked him in more firmly, and smoothed the hair away from his brow, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Satisfied that he was sleeping soundly, Draco returned to the living room. Astoria was staring into the fire, a huge gin and tonic in her hand. She noticed his entry, and motioned towards his own drink. Taking a bracing gulp, Draco settled himself at her feet. “Tor,” he said.

Just saying her name opened the floodgates. Astoria’s huge blue eyes filled with tears. He knelt between her knees, and held her chin with his hand, while wiping her tears away with the other. “Dray, I’m so scared,” she wept. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Either do I,” he confessed. “I’m scared too.” He didn’t say what he was actually thinking. Draco knew that he was being punished. Punished for being a coward and a bigot, for making so many bad choices, for hurting so many people. The gods had judged him, and they were going to take the person he loved most. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Draco Malfoy, don’t you dare start that shit again,” Astoria said fiercely. “I know what you’re thinking right now, and I won’t let you. This isn’t your fault, you’re not being punished, and our baby is not going to die.”

“Okay,” he soothed. “And you’re right, he’s going to beat this, he’s strong.” He looked closely at her. “Do you think we should have another baby?”

“Not with each other,” she said immediately. “I can’t bring another baby into this world knowing that they’d have a chance to being just as sick as Scorp. It’s not fair, to either of them.”

“Maybe we could get a surrogate?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It feels wrong, somehow, manufacturing a baby just for…spare parts.”

“Astoria!” 

“I don’t mean it that way, Draco, but you have to see my point. Scorpius was so wanted. I love him so much, but something doesn’t seem right about this. And, we don’t know if a half sibling would even match Scorpius. But then I just look at his little face, and I’d do anything in the world to get him better.”

“If we had another, it’s not like we would love him any less than Scorpius.”

“I can’t make this decision right now, Draco. I need to think about it.”

“I understand, you’re right. Tor, we’re going to be okay. Scorp’s going to be okay.”

He hugged her then, tightly, and her shoulders hitched once before she buried her face into his neck. “You good, Dray?”

“I’m good Astoria.”

He escaped to the shower then, and stood under the steaming water with his head against the tile. It was there, behind a silencing charm, that he finally gave way to the the wailing, grieving animal that had taken up residence inside of him. He cried until the water went cold, and even then, as he turned off the faucet and sunk to the cool floor, his tears fell unchecked. For a single, childish moment, he longed for his father. His father, who, after finally being released from Azkaban wasn’t really himself any longer, and could certainly do nothing to help fix Draco’s child. Then, he towelled himself off, and went to check on Scorpius again.

Healer Cici’s owl arrived just before Draco was about to go to bed. He untied the parchment from the unassuming owl’s leg, and it hooted once before disappearing back out the window. The letter was short:

_Dear Draco, Astoria and Scorpius,  
I spoke to the Doctor who is running the gene therapy trial, and after reviewing his bloodwork, he agrees that Scorpius is a potential candidate. Once Ministry approval is granted, we can proceed with a number of follow up tests, and if the results look good, he’d be willing to include Scorpius. I’ve sent the application over to the Ministry, and now we will wait for approval. _

_I’m not supposed to tell you that sometimes, a personal appeal from a family member can go a long way towards swaying the Ministry’s decision. I’m certainly not telling you to make an appointment at the Department of Magical Muggle Relations to plead your case, as there are official channels that need to be observed. My official advice is to remain patient, as these cases often take time to be reviewed._

_Please don’t hesitate to floo me if you have any additional questions, and I look forward to seeing the three of you in two weeks at Scorpius’ next appointment._

_Regards,  
Cici._

When she finished reading the parchment, Astoria looked up. “Which one of us should go?”

“Doesn’t matter, I suppose,” Draco replied. “I don’t mind.”

“You go, then. I’ll stay with Scorpius.”

And that was why, the next morning, Draco found himself in a set of carefully tailored robes, standing by the breakfast table next to a weeping Scorpius. Draco’s son almost never cried, even when being subjected to the most painful medical procedures. Today, however, his grey eyes looked at Draco pleadingly, and his bottom lip trembled.

“Darling, don’t you want to stay home with Mama?”

“I can’t,” Scorpius sobbed. “I have to go with you.”

“But the Ministry is boring, Scorpius. Mama and Kattie will make cookies with you,” Astoria said entreatingly.

“I need to go with Papa. It’s important.”

Draco knelt next to Scorpius’ chair, and carded his hand through his baby fine hair. “Can you explain why?”

“No,” he wailed. “I can’t. But I know I have to.”

“If you were to go with me, you’d have to sit quietly for a long time. It wouldn’t be very much fun at all. And we’ll need to make sure that you don’t pick up any germs along the way, so lots of cleaning spells.”

“Fine, Papa, but I know I have to go.” Scorpius’ tears were lessening, as he calculated the exact moment of Draco’s capitulation.

It wasn’t as if Draco was any good at refusing his child much of anything, anyway. “Very well. Kattie, can you please prepare Scorpius for an outing?”

The Department of Magical-Muggle Relations was located on the fifth floor of the Ministry. Scorpius looked wide-eyed at the memos swooping through the corridors as he clung to Draco’s hand and skipped along beside him. The door to the Department Head was guarded by a stern looking older woman who peered over her glasses at the two of them. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m afraid we don’t,” Draco said. “We were only made aware of the need for a discussion with the Head yesterday evening, so there wasn’t time to make one. I understand that she is likely very busy, and I hate to presume, but the matter is time-sensitive. Is there a possibility to make any time in the Head’s schedule today?”

The woman clicked her tongue at him, and examined the diary in front of her. "I could make fifteen minutes available at 11:00 sharp,” she said, a little grudgingly. “But then she has an appointment with the Minister, so that’s the best I could do.”

“Thank you,” Draco said fervently. “We’ll just come back then. Scorpius, let’s go down to the canteen and-”

“What’s your name?” Scorpius asked the lady behind the desk.

She chuckled. “My name is Margaret Nott. And you, young man?”

“My name is Scorpius Amicus Greengrass-Malfoy. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Nott.” he replied. Draco tensed. The Malfoy name had recovered some since their disgrace, but Draco still feared that someone would shun his child for the misdeeds of his ancestors. The Notts hadn’t been convicted as Death Eaters, but they were Slytherins, he remembered, his mental calculus suggesting that this could go in any direction.

To his relief, Mrs. Nott chuckled. “Your name is quite a bit bigger than you are, lad. We’ll see you at 11:00. Do you think that you could do something for me in the meantime?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“So polite,” she said approvingly. “Your Father said that you were going to the canteen. Do you think that you could eat five bites of whatever he puts in front of you?”

“I’m not really hungry,” Scorpius said doubtfully.

“Oh, I know, but I would be so pleased if you tried.”

“Alright,” he agreed. Draco gave her a grateful glance and she winked.

They returned at 10:50 promptly, Scorpius carefully carrying a brown paper bag, while Draco followed with a cup of tea. “Mrs. Nott,” Scorpius said excitedly. “I brought you a present! And I ate six bites!”

“How wonderful!” Mrs. Nott exclaimed. “Thank you, Scorpius.” Scorp grinned and presented her with the muffin he’d selected as though it were precious jewelry. “Have a seat then, darling, Ms. Weasley-Granger will see you in just a moment.”

Draco tensed. He hadn’t seen or spoken to any of the members of the golden trio in years. He and Granger ( _Weasley-Granger_ , his mind corrected) had reached a point where they could politely interact in those strange years after the trials, but then…later, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her. His mind started to go down the rabbit hole, remembering the past, and the things that Draco resolutely _did not think about ever_ , but the sound of a door opening jarred him from his mind’s efforts to self-destruct, and he took Scorpius’ hand and looked up.

“Draco?” Hermione Weasley-Granger was standing in the doorway to her office. “Come on through.”

“Thank you,” Draco replied politely, and gave Mrs. Nott a grateful smile on his way past her desk.

Scorpius was eying Hermione curiously, and she gave him a warm smile. “Hello, I’m Hermione. Would you like to sit down?” He nodded, and clambered up into one of the desk chairs. Draco noticed with a little pang that he was still too small to comfortably sit in a chair. His feet barely reached the edge of the seat. Draco sat in the chair beside him and ruffled his hair.

“Mrs. Weasley-Granger,” Draco said, his smile feeling tight around the edges, “thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

“Draco,” she replied, her tone a little chiding, but her smile remaining warm. “I think we’re long past the ‘Malfoy and Granger’ phase, don’t you?”

He flushed. “I just didn’t want to presume.”

“It’s fine, honestly. I haven’t met your companion though.”

“Hermione, I’d like you to meet Scorpius, my son.”

She looked at him delightedly. “Hi Scorpius. I bet that lots of people tell you that you look like your daddy.”

He nodded. “I tell them that Papa looks like _me_.”

Hermione and Draco exchanged amused little smiles, and Draco thought, _anything. I’ll do anything to keep this glorious child alive. Whatever it takes_.

“I know that you’re busy, Hermione, and I won’t keep you long. I was just hoping that I could draw your attention to Scorpius’ application to participate in a Muggle clinical trial. His Healer tells us that all such things need to be approved by this Department.” He passed a file folder across the desk, and Hermione flipped it open. She scanned the contents quickly, and bit her lip as she read.

Finally, she looked up. “I’m not that familiar with Fanconi Anemia. It’s clearly a blood-based illness.”

“My blood has broken parts, and so it doesn’t make the right colours.” Scorpius was pleased to add to the conversation.

“Ah, I see. Does that mean that you feel tired a lot?”

“Sometimes. And I get nosebleeds. Papa says they’re _disgusting_.” Scorpius grinned.

“I only say that when you refuse to use a handkerchief,” Draco protested.

“Draco, obviously, we want to help anyone who’s living with a medical condition get access to the right healthcare for them. I’d really like to do some research, and discuss things a little further with you. Could you meet me for lunch tomorrow?” Hermione’s brown eyes met his, and he saw a flash of empathy.

“I can’t do tomorrow,” Scorpius said. “Mama’s taking me to the zoo.”

Hermione laughed out loud. “That’s a shame, Scorpius. We’ll miss having you. Perhaps your Papa and I could meet tomorrow, and then we’ll see you another time.”

“I suppose,” Scorpius said, and his imperious little chin made Draco weak-kneed, so much did he adore this child.

The restaurant that Hermione chose was Wizard, but Draco was grateful to see her sitting in a secluded booth near the back. He slid into the bench seat across from her and returned her smile a bit tentatively. So much rode on this, and Draco had never been good at playing nice. There was so much history between this Draco and woman and her two friends, and it set Draco on edge. 

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” he began.

She waved a hand cheerfully. “I have to eat anyhow, and Ron will be pleased to hear I’ve left the office for a change.” Her smile dimmed a little. “Draco, I wanted to let you know how sorry I am to hear of Scorpius’ illness. It must be so difficult for you all.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, taking a sip of water. “We’ve been managing, since the diagnosis. Scorpius is…well, you’ve met him.”

“He’s a delight. His healer must love him. How old is he?”

“Four,” Draco said. “And a half.”

She grinned, “The half is very important. My daughter gets quite offended when we forget to add it.”

“Ah, so it was a girl?” Hermione had been heavily pregnant the last time he’d seen her.

“Yes. Rose. We have a son as well, Hugo.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Ron’s over the moon.”

“I’m glad you’re doing well, Hermione.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Do you ever-” he began, and then stopped abruptly. He didn’t want to know. She looked at him expectantly, but he just smiled, and took another sip of his water. The waiter arrived, and they placed their orders, leaving them to stare at one another awkwardly. 

Hermione moved things along. “I must confess that I’ve never met anyone with Scorpius’ condition before. Is it quite rare?”

Draco nodded. “Almost unheard of in Magical people. Quite rare amongst Muggles as well.”

“And it’s genetic in nature?”

“Yes,” Draco said, a little bitterly. “Passed down because Astoria and I both share a genetic anomaly. Ironic, really, that for all my Father’s muttering about breeding, I fathered a child with a Pureblooded witch, and we’re still managing to kill him.”

Hermione’s eyes softened in the corners, but she didn’t respond, other than to say, “And his condition has worsened?”

“Yes. The therapy that has been treating him to this point is no longer effective. There is another treatment that we’re exploring, but it won’t cure him.”

The waiter returned with their food, and, as they started eating, Hermione asked, “Is the condition curable?”

Draco nodded. “Mostly, yes. There are some treatments that will effectively teach Scorpius’ blood to create the proper proportion of blood cells, and that will greatly extend his life expectancy.”

“So why are you exploring a clinical trial? As I understand it, Muggle-based treatments don’t always produce expected results in magical patients. Are the other treatment options unsuited to Scorpius?”

“In a sense. The best treatment available is a bone marrow transplant, but finding a donor is quite difficult. The odds are increased significantly when a sibling donor exists, but Scorpius is an only child, and we’re grappling with the ethics of having another child, since that wasn’t part of our plans before all of this.”

Hermione suddenly dropped her fork. Her eyes grew wide for a split second, before she said, “Would you excuse me for a moment?” She raced away from the table and Draco stared after her. She was back within minutes, but her cheeks were pink with colour, and her forehead was wrinkled, as though she was thinking hard.

As manners dictated, Draco didn’t say anything about her abrupt departure, but after a few moments of awkward silence, Draco said, “So do you think that you’ll be able to approve Scorpius’ application?”

“I believe so, yes. The approval process is a two-stage one. If you receive first stage approval, I’ll meet with the Muggle Doctor who is leading the trial, and, if the meeting goes well, you can proceed with all of the testing required to ensure that Scorpius is a good candidate. After that’s taken place, we can grant stage two approval, which will allow us to create the necessary agreements. The Doctor will need to have his knowledge of the Magical world obliviated when the trial is completed, and he’ll need to agree to that. He’ll also need to agree to share his results with our teams at St. Mungo’s. The approval process isn’t a quick one, I’m afraid, but I’ll do everything I can to fast-track it.”

Draco felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Tears swam in his eyes for a moment before he blinked them away, and said, “Hermione, thank you. Truly. I owe you a great debt.”

“Don’t be silly, Draco, I’d never stand in the way of a child getting needed medical treatment.”

“I know that, but you had no obligation to prioritize anyone in my family. Especially after…”

Her smile was inordinately sad. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt him, Draco. It wasn’t your fault, what happened.”

“It was,” he replied simply. After all these years, his guilt and sorrow hadn’t fully abated. It sat in his belly like a stone. At times, he could forget about it, but, on days like these, when he was reminded of what he’d done, what he’d lost, it was heavy and foreign. He’d tried so hard to avoid asking, but, unable to resist, he finally said, “Do you speak to him, ever?”

Her face further clouded. “No,” she said bleakly. “Not once, not in over ten years.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never thought that he’d…”

“He’s stubborn,” she said, with forced lightness. “Always has been.”  



	2. Chapter 2

It was still late summer, but the wind carried a bite. Harry pulled his collar up around his neck, and walked a little faster, but by the time he reached the school, his nose was red and he was sniffling. He entered through the front doors, and popped his head into the office. Sarah, the school secretary, smiled in greeting. “Hi Harry! Isn’t this weather ridiculous?”

“Yeah, I’m glad we live so close, at least the walk is quick. The wind took a bunch of shingles off my shop. Oh, I brought you something!” Harry reached into his bag, and removed a small plastic container containing a single, beautiful cupcake.

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “The carrot one?” Harry grinned. She opened it, and took an enormous bite, moaning in delight. “Are you sure you’re not into women?”

Harry blushed. “Hush, you. You’re going to start all sorts of rumours.”

“Fine, spoilsport. Thank you for the cupcake, though.”

“Anytime. I’m going to go in, I’ll see you later.”

The gym was empty and quiet as Harry entered, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before it was full of noise. He went into the storage room, and pulled out the mats and dummy. By the time he had everything ready, the bell had rung, and a crowd of laughing and chattering girls had entered the gym. In the midst of the crowd, Harry spotted a riot of blonde curls and he felt the familiar wash of pride and awe. A set of smoky green eyes met his, and he sent a little burst of love over, prompting one that came back just as strong in return.

“Hi Mister Potter!” A chorus of voices shouted his name, and he smiled broadly at everyone before sitting down on one of the mats. Gradually, the girls all did the same. These were his junior cohort, and they were secretly Harry’s favourite group to work with. Old enough to pay attention for a while, but still young enough that they weren’t self conscious when trying something new.

“Hi everyone,” Harry said, once the noise level had diminished a little. “I’m happy to see you all again. Today we’re covering the last bit of self defence, and then next time we see each other, we’ll begin doing some basic first aid. You’ve all done brilliantly so far, and today will be about showing me everything you’ve learned.”

“Okay!” Harry jumped to his feet and clapped his hands. “What’s the first rule?”

“Stay alert,” a bunch of voices chorused.

“Exactly! Keep your eyes open, because an attacker wants you to be distracted. Good job. Second rule?”

“Get loud!”

“Yes! If a stranger gets close to you, and you feel uncomfortable, tell them so! Let’s practice. Pair up. I want you to take turns. One of you can be the stranger, and I want your partner to tell you to back off. Be as loud as you can!”

The girls jumped up. Harry watched, but was quickly satisfied that there was no odd girl out. Soon, he could hear little voices yelling, with authority, “Back off! I don’t know you! Go away!”

He blew his whistle, and the girls retook their seats. “That was excellent. I like how clearly you all spoke. Alright, if somebody puts their hands on you, what do we do?”

“Yell!”

“Yes, good. We’re going to yell, ‘Don’t touch me!’ And when we get away, we’re going to run for help. What if they don’t stop touching us? What then?”

“Hit and kick!”

“You’re darned right we are. Where are we going to hit or kick?”

The girls all started yelling body parts, and when they were done, Harry grinned, “Well done. We’re going to punch in the throat, or the nose. We’re going to poke eyes. We’re going to kick knees, shins, or places that are normally covered by underwear!” This prompted hysterical giggles from the girls, and Harry blushed. “I know, it’s funny, but we want to hurt them, surprise them, make them let go.”

The lesson progressed, and Harry had them all practice breaking free of various holds. An hour later, he saw a number of parents peeking through the doors, and he waved them in. “Okay, gang, that was really well done. I’m so proud of you. I’m seeing some parents arriving, and we’re nearly done. I just have one more thing to tell you, and this is the most important thing out of everything we’ve covered.” Harry sat on the mat and looked carefully at each girl as he spoke. 

“Sometimes, people are too shy to speak up when they feel uncomfortable. They don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings, or they’re frightened of making someone mad at them. That’s rubbish! There is one thing in this world that belongs to you and you alone, and that yourself. You are in charge of your body and your mind. You get to say whether someone touches you are not. If someone else gets offended, that’s their problem, not yours. I always want you to remember that. And if someone is telling you any differently, then you go and tell someone you trust. Okay?”

“Yes Mister Potter!”

Harry inwardly rolled his eyes at the ‘Mister Potter’ but school rules were what they were, and he dismissed the girls with high fives, fist bumps, or waves. He watched as Sarah checked each girl out with their associated picker-upper, and made sure that nobody had been left behind. Except Cass, of course, who was dragging the dummy into the storage room. He was headed over to help her when a voice said, “Mister Potter?”

Turning around, he saw a tall, slim man crossing the gym floor towards him, smiling. “I’m Amy’s dad, Peter.”

“Hi Peter, nice to meet you. Thanks for letting Amy join us, she’s really been an asset to the group.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I wanted to thank you for doing this. I’ve seen such an increase in Amy’s confidence since she’s been coming here. She was a bit timid before.”

“That’s amazing to hear. I think it’s important for kids, especially girls, to be confident in their own autonomy.”

“It is,” Peter agreed. “I was wondering if I could thank you a bit more personally. Could I take you for dinner?”

Harry smiled warmly, but said, “Thank you for asking me. I really appreciate the offer, but I don’t socialize, really.”

“All the more reason to start,” Peter said hopefully.

“Thank you for the offer, truly. But I don’t go out, really, and never without Cass.”

Peter looked disappointed, but Harry’s tone, while friendly, left no room for negotiation. “If you change your mind, Harry, please do get in touch. I’d really like to get to know you better.”

“Thank you. I’d better say goodbye, and help Cass clean up.”

As they walked home, the grey skies clearly trying to decide whether to spit rain or snow, Cass gave him an arch look, and raised a single eyebrow. “Was Amy’s dad asking you out?”

“I suppose so.”

“And you said no?”

“Of course I did.”

“Dad.”

“Cass.”

“You’re very stubborn, you know?”

“Hmm, yes, it’s been commented on before.”

“Will we have pizza for dinner?”

“Of course.”

Harry’s lack of adult companionship was a topic discussed more often than usual between a father and his nearly ten year old daughter. Harry knew that he treated Cass more like an adult than was strictly necessary. He reasoned that, not having had a stellar childhood himself, he wasn’t sure how to relate to a child that hadn’t grown up surrounded by darkness. On balance, though, he figured that the two of them made it work. Cass certainly was the cleverest, most well-adjusted child he knew, even if he were slightly biased.

When they reached the cozy little house, perched on the corner of a quiet street, surrounded by enormous Maple trees, Harry felt tension dissipate from his spine, like releasing a fist he hadn’t realized he was clenching. Home. He patted the front door lovingly as it unlocked at his touch. Entering the spacious kitchen, as the lights flared to life, he noticed an owl sitting on the windowsill. Cass clattered into the kitchen behind him, throwing her school bag into a corner, and immediately grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table. “Can you call for the pizza while I deal with this owl?” Harry asked.

Cass made the call quickly, then hung up and said, “Twenty-five minutes. I’m going to go say hello to Uncle Professor.”

Harry grinned. “It drives him mad when you call him that.”

“That’s why I do it.”

The parchment attached to the owl’s leg contained just a few lines, but Harry’s instinct pinged a little. Having learned over the years, that instincts were fine and good, but worrying about them would solve nothing, he scribbled a few lines onto a fresh parchment, affixed it to the owl’s leg, and sent it on its way.

He could hear Cass chattering away from the living room, and the deep voice answering. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching as Cass demonstrated how high she could kick, and did her best to show her Uncle Professor where his vulnerable bits lay. “Can you set the table?”

A sigh. Rolled eyes. A hint of the inevitable attitude to come as Cass approached her adolescence. Then, a sunny smile and a little squeeze around his middle as she disappeared into the kitchen. “Insufferable monster,” the deep voice said.

“Hello Dungeon bat. Have a nice day?” Harry opened his (non-owl) mail methodically, but spared a glance to the portrait that took up much of the wall above the fireplace.

“Passable. You had your ‘kick ass class for kick ass girls’ this evening?”

“I did. Asses were kicked.”

“And hearts broken, by the sounds of things.”

“That child has an exceptionally chatty mouth. Little gossip.”

“Being a parent doesn’t mean that you can’t go out with adults.”

“I don’t want to go out with adults. I’m perfectly content with what I have.”

“And you say that the devil spawn is stubborn.”

“Stop calling her devil spawn. You’re not fooling anyone, you know. As if you don’t adore her beyond all measure.”

“She’s not intolerable.”

“Overwhelming praise, coming from you, Sev.”

“We’ll discuss your love life later, you know.”

“Nothing to discuss. Do you want the tv on?”

“No, maybe after dinner.”

Harry returned to the kitchen to find Cass standing on the countertop, rooting in an upper cupboard. This was a habit that had been much-discussed in the Potter household, but since half of its living inhabitants were firmly opposed to the practice, while the other half equally convinced that it was an efficient way for short people to get things done, a stalemate was declared. Cass leapt lightly down from the counter, but the second her toe touched the tile, Harry knew that the angle was wrong. Cass collapsed into an elegant little heap, holding her ankle tightly. 

“I’m okay,” she said immediately, and that was when Harry knew that she wasn’t. Cass was an exuberant child, who was prone to fits of drama over trifles, but when she was actually hurt or upset, she adamantly insisted that she was fine.

“Can I see?” Harry asked quietly. His heart had started to pound, and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. When Cass nodded, he gently probed the joint, and watched her face. It was impassive, not a single muscle twitched, but Cass’ eyes had always been her tell. As he maneuvered the ankle, a tiny dilation of the pupil told him where the problem was. “Just a sprain, little duck.” A wave of his wand had the problem repaired, and Cass bounced to her feet, all business.

The pizza arrived, and soon, they were sitting at the table. Cass had outdone herself with pizza ingredient selection, and Harry was looking at it in consternation. “What are these little strips? Why do they look like fish?”

“They are fish. Anchovies. Do you like?”

“I’m not sure.” Harry carefully picked the offending fish off, and set them on his plate.

“You’re supposed to try new things.”

“I did try a new thing. I tried not shouting at you for climbing the cabinets like a monkey, and look where that’s gotten me.”

“Dad. Don’t fuss. I’m fine.”

“I never fuss.”

“Oh yes, that’s true. I think you’ve gone nearly a week without calling me ‘little duck’ and getting that wounded deer look.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and said, “Auntie Min is coming next week.”

“Oh the owl was from her?” Harry nodded. “You’re worried. Because you weren’t expecting this.”

“Stop that, brat. Minds are private, and-”

“And it’s rude to go somewhere uninvited. I know. I just can’t always help it, not when it’s you.”

“I know, but I’m the dad, and you’re the kid. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“If I don’t, who’s going to?”

“I’m very, very good at worrying about myself, Cass. We’ve discussed this. Plus, I have a meddling portrait and a very overprotective old lady who, apparently, is coming to visit.” Harry’s eyes softened as he took her hand. “You’re nine years old, my heart. I want you to enjoy being a kid. Adult worries will come along soon enough.” He suddenly grinned, “Plus, you give terrible advice.”

“I do not!”

“Those jeans you made me buy say differently.”

“Those jeans had half the store drooling after you. Women and men.”

“Gross. You’re proving my point”

“Well, we could settle this once and for all. If only I had my wand.” She looked at him wryly, one wild curl falling down over her eye. 

“What? Cass, that one didn’t even make sense!” Cass had been pestering Harry to make her wand for the better part of a year. Despite his reply that wizarding children in his family received their wand on their eleventh birthday, the subject was revisited. Often.

“But, Da-ad,”

“But Ca-ass,” They looked at one another challengingly, both grinning. The moment held, before she impatiently flicked her head, tossed the curl back to join the others. Harry thought gleefully of the wand that was sitting in his workshop, locked carefully in a cabinet. In truth, he’d made Cass’ wand the first time she performed magic, and it had been waiting for her ever since. Harry was planning to give it to her on her tenth birthday in October. He had never been more excited to present a wand to a young witch. As they sat, Harry’s mind moved on to homework, and packing lunch, and the finicky length of Alder that was sitting on his workbench, confounding him.

Later that night, though, after Cass had showered, and tucked herself in, Harry paused in her doorway. The hall light bled through the darkness, highlighting the gold of her hair. He admired the delicate bridge of her nose, the sharp jut of her chin. Her lips were slightly parted, and she’d kicked her covers off. As he smoothed them over her thin shoulder, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, the familiar love and guilt and motherfucking _terror_ of being this child’s father threatened to overtake him. Harry hastily made his way to the living room, where he summoned a beer, and slumped onto the sofa.

“Potter, you’re thinking too loudly.”

“Severus, you’re being house-ist again. Gryffindors think. We just don’t get caught up in it as much as snakes or ravens.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Do you know why Minerva is coming next week?”

“No.”

“It can’t be good, right?”

“Probably not, no.”

“I won’t let them take her.”

“No, Harry, I know you won’t.”

“I almost lost my mind when she got hurt tonight.”

“You didn’t, though.” Severus peered out of the frame, eyeing him closely. “And what are we grappling with this evening? Overwhelming fear that she’ll be hurt and you won’t protect her, or overwhelming guilt over something you think she’s not getting?”

“Why not both?”

“Indeed.” Severus narrowed his eyes, and heaved an enormous sigh. “Harry Potter, you listen to me now, because I will be unlikely to repeat myself. The child that sleeps upstairs is a remarkably well-adjusted and happy little girl. Her childhood has been as joyful as yours wasn’t. She is safe, and healthy, and intelligent, and, most shockingly, likeable. You’re an excellent father, Harry. You are not failing her.”

Harry gaped at him for just a second, before remembering who he was speaking with, and promptly closing his mouth. He gave Snape a nod, almost a bow, and went upstairs to bed.

The weather had finally turned temperate again, when Minerva arrived the following week. Harry was working in his shop, sleeves rolled up, The Beatles playing on the record player he’d charmed to work around all the magic. As always when he was working, time had slipped away from him, and he looked up in surprise when he heard Cass shouting from the back door of the house, “Dad! She’s here!”

He threw off his apron, set his tools aside, and hurried into the house, where Minerva McGonagall stood, beaming at Cass. “Min,” he said thickly, emotion crowding into his voice.

“Harry.” She’d aged a little, since the last time he’d seen her, but her eyes were as bright and shrewd as ever. He put his arms around her and squeezed gently. She was a little frailer, but her hug was as tight as ever. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, lad. You’re keeping well?”

“Blooming, Min, as are you. You look wonderful.”

“Off with you,” she waved a hand impatiently. “I’d like to know exactly what you’re feeding my Goddaughter. She’s so tall!”

“I think that people are just bigger in Canada. Fresh air, maybe?”

“Oh yes. No fresh air to be had in the Scottish Highlands, certainly,” Minerva said.

Harry was at the stove before she’d had a chance to remove her scarf and coat, but Cass was there waiting, and took them to hang up. When she left the room, Minerva said, “She’s lovely, Harry.”

“She is,” he agreed. After tea had been served, and Cass had lugged Minerva’s carpet bag up to the spare room, Cass was full of questions. “Any new ghosts?”

“I’m afraid not. In fact, your dad will be interested to know that Professor Binns has retired.”

“You’re kidding! How did you convince him?” Harry asked.

“His lectures had surpassed boring, and were bordering on fantasy. The Board decided that it wouldn’t stand, and so they convinced him to relocate to the classrooms near the Hufflepuff Dormitories.”

“The ones beyond the corridor that collapsed?”

“The very same. He’s still a little surprised that his class numbers are so low, but no harm done.”

“Dad,” Cass said suddenly, “we should move this into the living room.”

“Ah, fair point. Uncle Professor would be so disappointed to miss the gossip.”

“He’d have more than his fair share if he returned to his portrait at Hogwarts once in a while,” Minerva groused, as she obediently followed them in. Harry floated the tea things along, and the group resettled.

“Why would I return to a school full of dunderheads when I have a willing and capable pupil here?” Severus’ voice was cantankerous, but he looked at Cass proudly.

After a few hours of catching up on gossip, Harry excused himself to the kitchen to prepare dinner. The chatter continued from the living room, but Harry relished the opportunity to work, alone with his thoughts, for a few minutes. He chopped vegetables, and made a stew methodically, allowing the repetitive movements to soothe him. He loved Minerva as much as he would have loved his own Mother, but having her here, in his home, left him feeling unsettled. She represented the world he’d fled, and when it encroached on the safe space he’d created for himself here, he was left feeling panicky, threatened.

Suddenly aware of a presence at his side, he looked down to see Cass, standing quietly. “Hello, little duck,” he said. “Do you need something?”

“Hug,” she said simply. He rinsed and dried his hands, and then gathered her close. As he stroked her hair, she clutched the hem of his jumper, as she always did, and breathed deeply.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm,” she said, from the depths of the heavy wool. “Auntie Min isn’t just here for a visit. She’s bringing change.”

“I think you might be right, but we’ll sort it out. We always do. I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Of course you will,” she replied, her voice utterly sure, as though Harry had told her that water was wet, or that the stars came out at night. Comforted, she bounced back into the living room, and Harry could hear her enlisting Minerva and Severus’ help with convincing Harry to let them have a dog.

_Maybe they would get a dog_ , he thought. He was home most of the day, and Cass would eagerly help care for one. He resolved to look up animal shelters after Minerva had returned to Scotland.

After Cass had reluctantly gone to bed, placated somewhat by the promise that Auntie Min would teach her to bake scones the following morning, Harry took the bottle of Scotch from the cupboard, and poured them each a sizeable glass without asking. Minerva perched on the sofa, while Harry flopped into an armchair, where he could see both Minerva and Severus.

The silence stretched, and Minerva looked uncomfortable, and finally, Harry sighed, and said, “Who is it?” Minerva took a breath, but didn’t say anything, and he continued, “Ron or Hermione? Are they dead?”

“Dead? No, Harry, no.”

“Teddy? The Weasleys? Minerva, who’s died, because you’re obviously here to tell me that someone has.”

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry. Of course you’d think that. That was unbearably foolish of me. They’re fine, all of them.”

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Then, what is it?” His voice was small.

“It concerns Draco Malfoy.”

Harry made a move to stand up, to run from the room, but his legs were surprisingly wobbly, and he sank back down. “Professor McGonagall, please.”

“Harry, dear, you haven’t called me Professor in years. I know that you are surprised to hear me bring up a name from your past, and I’ll admit, I did consider that it might be kinder not to discuss this with you. In the end, however, I decided that you have long past earned the right to make these sorts of decisions for yourself.” Harry noticed Snape nodding approvingly, and it bolstered him a bit.

“I suppose you’d better tell me, then.”

Minerva patted the seat next to her, but Harry shook his head a little. He gathered his legs onto the armchair and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knee.

“Two weeks ago, Hermione came to visit me at the Castle. Do you know what her job at the Ministry entails?” Harry shook his head. “She runs the Department of Magical-Muggle Relations, and supervises any interaction that Wizards have with the Muggle world. She received an application to participate in a Muggle Medical Trial. Are you familiar with those?” Harry nodded. “The application was from Draco, applying on behalf of his son.”

“I see.”

“Draco and Astoria Malfoy have a little boy named Scorpius. He is four years old. If he doesn’t receive treatment, he will surely die, and it would be unlikely that he would reach his sixth birthday.”

“Well, I hope he gets approved for the trial,” Harry said, wondering why this information merited an international portkey.

“Yes, as I understand it, he will, but the treatment is, by nature, experimental, and there’s no guarantee. Hermione learned, as she researched Draco’s application, that the best chance that Scorpius has for survival is by receiving a bone marrow donation.” She waited for Harry to say something, but the rising terror that was currently flooding his adrenal system prevented him from speaking. “Harry, if Scorpius receives a donation from a sibling donor, his chances of survival are quite excellent.”

“You can’t possibly be asking this of us,” Harry said flatly.

“I’m not, Harry. Draco continues to know nothing of your life, and the decision lies with you. But, I wanted you to know that you had the opportunity to help, and be able to make the decision with all the information.”

Severus was watching Harry very closely, his dark eyes keen, but his face wholly impassive. He seemed to recognize something in Harry’s expression. “Harry,” he said softly. “Go for a walk. Get some air and clear your head. You do not need to make any decisions now. Minerva and I will be here for Cass.”

“I…yeah,” Harry said. He stood, and as Minerva looked closely at his eyes, she saw the same look that had haunted him through the final years of the war, as though he bore the sole responsibility to save everyone. In these moments, he always looked impossibly young.

“Harry,” she said. “I want you to know that I support whatever decision you choose to make.”

“Thanks,” he said roughly, and he summoned a hoodie, shoved his feet into a pair of ratty trainers and disappeared into the night. The minute his feet hit the steps of the porch, he started running, and he didn’t stop until his lungs felt like they were on fire, and his t-shirt was soaked with sweat. He turned and started walking back, but as he passed a park, he diverted, and sat on one of the empty swings. Not far away, he could hear laughter and talking from a group of kids. Teenagers, likely drinking underneath the bleachers near the baseball field. He pushed himself with his feet, feeling the wind cooling his sweat-soaked hair. He closed his eyes for a minute, pretending that was yesterday, before this had happened. 

Harry hadn’t wanted much when the war ended. He said a polite ‘no thank you,’ to the Aurors, and a less-polite ‘fuck no’ to the Minister, who wanted him to be some sort of Ambassador. Fortunately, Kingsley had laughed, told him that he hadn’t expected him to accept, and wished him luck in what he _did_ want to do.

That had been the question though. After spending the past seven years driven by a prophecy, Harry wasn’t sure what it would look like to do what he wanted. Harry contented himself with focusing on what he knew, and figured the rest would take care of itself. He spent the summer after the war playing Quidditch, hanging out with Ron at night after Wheezes had closed, and visiting his Godson, until Andromeda decided to move to France. A few things were harder to sort out. There’d been an awkward conversation with Ginny, when he’d finally had to admit that he thought of her like a little sister, and had been dreaming of Oliver Wood on a broomstick far too often for him to be entirely straight. 

By the time September rolled around, everyone he knew was working or in school, and Harry still had no idea what he wanted to do. His parents’ vault ensured that he didn’t have to work, but Harry knew he would want to do _something_. It had been a strange little twist of fate that had led him to his chosen career. He’d been walking through Diagon Alley, having popped into the shop to say hello to Ron and George, when Harry had gotten the impression he was being followed. A surreptitious look behind him confirmed that a photographer was dogging his path. Harry had begun to lose the last vestiges of his patience with the Prophet. How many pictures did they need of him going to a shop or drinking a pint? In desperation, he’d ducked into the first shop door he saw.

He was surprised when he heard a familiar, abeit weakened, voice saying, “Well, Mister Potter, I did not expect to see you here again.”

“Mister Ollivander!” Harry exclaimed. “Sorry to burst in on you like this. I was dodging a photographer, and just ducked into the first shop I saw. But it’s lovely to see you. How are you feeling?”

“Much improved, Mister Potter. I think that we should have some tea, and you will tell me some interesting stories about wands.”

So that’s what they did. Ollivander had some interesting theories on the Elder wand, and Harry’s affinity with Malfoy’s wand. By the time that Harry checked his watch, several hours had gone by. 

He found himself returning again the following week to drink tea, and discuss wand lore. And the week after that. And before long, Mister Ollivander had become Garrick, and Harry had become Harry, and they were drawing up an apprenticeship contract. For a time, he’d been blissfully happy. 

But things changed. For a while, they changed for the better, and Harry had wondered if it was all a dream. And then things had changed for the worse. And after that, Harry had decided to immigrate to Canada, and he’d had to start all over again. Now, when he was happy in his new life, things were going to change, and he’d lose everything all over again.

Harry had been proud that, for all of the unexpected challenges his life had presented, that he’d never bowed down, never been beaten by his losses. That he’d squared his shoulders and stood up, over and over. He wondered if this time, he’d be able to pick himself back up. He wondered if he’d care to even try. He had started to shiver, and even the kids under the bleachers had left, so he rose and began to trudge home. 

Minerva had retired by the time he arrived, but Severus was reading in his comfy chair within the portrait. “Hi,” Harry said quietly.

“Was that helpful?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry said honestly. “I don’t feel like I’m crawling out of my own skin anymore. I guess that’s something.”

“It is. You’ve had a shock this evening. It’s understandable to feel a bit unsettled.”

“I won’t survive it if I lose her.”

“You’re borrowing trouble, Harry. No one has suggested that you’ll lose her.”

“But it’s possible.”

“Anything is possible, brat. You could blow yourself up in that infernal workshop of yours. That menace of a daughter upstairs could become the next Dark Lord.”

“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry said with feeling.

“It’s also possible that she’ll end up the youngest Minister for Magic in history, truly it could go either way, with that one.”

Harry managed a little smile. “Sev, I’m really scared.”

“I know, Harry. Minerva’s right, you know. No one will judge you if you decide to ignore this information.”

“I’ll judge myself, though, won’t I?”

“Yes, I rather think you will.”

“Should I tell her? Find out how she feels about it?”

“You’ve never lied to her before. It’s still your decision, but I think she has a right to provide her opinion.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Harry.”

Harry decided to tell Cass about the situation in England the next morning. He was no closer to a decision himself, but he didn’t believe in keeping secrets, and Cass would only break into his mind to find out what was bothering him. They settled in the living Room, with tea. Minerva offered to make herself scarce, but Harry asked her to stay.

“Well,” Cass said cheerfully, “this looks like it’s going to be fun.”

Harry made a face at her. “You’re a terrible brat.”

“I am,” she agreed with a sunny smile.

“Alright Cass, we were right that Auntie Min had news for me. It’s kind of a lot, but if you want to know about it, I’ll tell you. And if you don’t want to know, you can trust me to take care of it.”

“I want to know, obviously.” Her delivery of the word ‘obviously’ was a deadpan Severus impression, and Harry flicked his eyes to the portrait to see his reaction. Severus emitted a long-suffering sigh, and motioned Harry to continue.

“Okay, well, I guess the first thing that you need to know is that this information is about your Papa, your other biological father.”

“The one who couldn’t keep us,” Cass confirmed.

“Yes. Well, he couldn’t keep me.”

Cass frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll get to that. As you know, your Papa and I were seeing each other, but after we separated, and I came to Canada, he got married to a lady named Astoria.”

“Do you know her?”

“Not very well. She went to Hogwarts too, but she was younger than me, and in a different House.”

“Okay, fine, so Draco married Astoria.”

Harry stilled. “How do you know your Papa’s name, Cass?”

She shrugged, “You talk in your sleep.”

“Right, okay, so Draco and Astoria went on to have a little boy, who they named Scorpius. He’s four now. But unfortunately, Scorpius is very sick. He has a problem with his blood, and if they can’t fix it, he might not survive.”

“I have a brother.” Cass looked awestruck for a moment, and then pleased. “Wow. I mean, I guess I knew it was possible, but wow. A brother. How will the Healers fix his blood?”

“Scorpius needs a bone marrow transfusion. That’s where they find someone who has similar characteristics, and they extract a little bit of the inside of one of their bones. When they put that marrow inside Scorpius, he has a very good chance of getting better,” Minerva said.

“They haven’t yet found anyone who’s bone marrow would be a close match to Scorpius’,” Harry continued. “But, in a lot of cases, a sibling is a very good match.”

“A sibling like me,” Cass said quietly.

“Possibly, yes,” Harry said. Cass’ face grew distant and a little cross-looking, in the way it did when she was taking in information and drawing conclusions. Harry called it her ‘learning face’, and it had charmed him ever since she started doing it, at six months old. What he had never admitted out loud was that it reminded him so much of Draco that it made his heart hurt.

“I won’t do it,” she said firmly.

“Okay,” Harry replied. “That’s your decision, and I can respect that. It’s your bone marrow, and you have the right to say whether you gift it to someone else. Do you think you could tell me why you’re making that decision?”

Cass’ lovely grey-green eyes flashed. “Why should I? For nine years, he’s been happy enough to ignore me, and now that his kid, his real kid is sick, he wants me to help him?”

Harry felt a roaring in his ears, as though the room were suddenly filled with a violent wind. “Oh Cass, no. That’s not how it is.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“He didn’t know.” Harry’s voice had gone flat. “He didn’t know about you.”

She looked at him, and said, “What.” It was less a question than a demand for clarification.

“Cass, the situation was unbearably complicated. For a whole number of reasons, I made the decision not to tell him. And then we moved to Canada, and I stopped talking to anyone other than Auntie Min.”

Harry was watching her face carefully, and so he had the dubious pleasure of seeing the exact moment that Cass’ trust in him shattered. There was a split second of desperate pain, and then her expression became very cold, and very measured. She stood up, smoothed down her t-shirt and ran a hand through her tangled curls. “I think that I will spend time alone in my room, now.”

“Cass, please. I’d really like to tell you, to try to explain,” Harry began, his hand outstretched pleadingly. The look she gave him was her answer, and Harry faltered slightly. “Okay then, we’ll give you your privacy.” She was nearly at the stairs when he said, “Cass? I love you.”

“Do you,” she replied cooly, before disappearing into her room and closing the door.

Severus and Minerva exchanged glances and then looked at Harry. “Don’t,” he said softly, his hands raised as though to ward them off. He had a sudden urge to go find a corner to hide in, somewhere small, and safe. Like a…like a cupboard. Instead, he went into his study, closed the door firmly, and crawled into the armchair by the window. This was Cass’ chair, really. When Harry was balancing his accounts, or reading at his desk, she liked to curl up here with a book, or her sketchpad. They would work companionably together on rainy days, the only sounds the crackling of the fire, the scratching of Harry’s quill, and the raindrops on the window. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. Minerva came in at one point, asking if he’d like tea, or something to eat, but he shook his head. She stood helplessly for a moment, as though trying to think of what to say to comfort him, but evidently came up empty, and left him alone with his thoughts.

As his worry for Cass grew, he conjured his Patronus, which had changed to a fox after Cass had been born. “Go check on her,” he told it, and it twitched its nose and disappeared through the wall. It reappeared a few minutes later, looking wretched. Cass had clearly blocked its entry to her room. “It’s okay,” Harry reassured it, and it seemed to consider curling up at his feet, but instead, paled and faded out.

The stalemate continued for two days. Cass remained barricaded in her room, Harry in his study. Minerva flitted between the two, pressing food on both of them that was largely ignored. Harry knew his daughter well. Like him, when she was injured, she withdrew into herself, erected barriers to protect herself. Also like him, she rarely reacted when she was bodily injured, but an assault to her tender feelings was a traumatic event.

Just when Harry was beginning to think that she’d never emerge, and he’d have to force the issue, she appeared in his doorway. She looked tired, and her eyes were red-rimmed in a way that suggested she’d shed tears, but Harry knew she’d never admit to it. “Hey, little duck,” Harry said.

She was as hesitant as a fawn as she crossed the room towards him. She nudged his feet from the ottoman, and perched on the edge, wrapping her skinny arms around herself. “I’m angry with you,” she admitted.

“Yes, I can imagine you must be.”

“You did a bad thing.”

“I did. I did a bad thing for what felt like very good reasons, but I doubt that is any comfort.”

“He might have wanted me.”

“I think that he very likely would have.”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“Tell me?”

“Do I even have to? You know that I’m going to help him. I have a brother, Dad, and it’s not his fault he’s sick, and it’s your fault I don’t even know him.”

“Yes. I’ll make arrangements for us to Portkey to England.”

“Scotland,” Cass corrected. “If I’m going there, I want to see Hogwarts.”

“Very well. Cass, it might not mean much to you right now, but I am sorry that I hurt you. I swear to you that I truly believed I was making the decision that hurt you least.”

“Will you explain someday?”

“I will. Not today, but I promise.”

“I could go looking for the information myself.”

“Yes, I know you could.”

“You haven’t given me any reason not to.”

“Nor will I. I like to think that I’ve never abused your trust in me, except about this, which was more of a decision not to overwhelm you with information than a desire to lie to you. And I know that you’re well aware that our magical abilities give us some obligation to use them responsibly. But yes, you have the power to find out all of the information yourself, and I won’t make any effort to stop you. I will say that sometimes when you go looking for information that isn’t freely given, you learn more than you wanted to. I promise to tell you as soon as I can.”

“That will have to do, I suppose.”

“Cassiopeia Narcissa Potter, I love you with every single fibre of my being. I can truly say that each decision I’ve made since I learned that you existed has been made with your welfare in mind. There is nothing that I wouldn’t sacrifice for you, and no matter what happens in the future, I will love you ceaselessly, for every moment of the rest of my life.”

A tiny smile appeared on Cass’ lips. “Uncle Professor would call you a sodding Gryffindor right now.”

“He’d be right.”

“I’d feel a lot better if I had a wand, you know.”

“You’re horrible. And I love you."

“I need a cuddle.” Her face looked young, unsure, suddenly. Harry opened his arms, and she climbed into his lap. Harry had never really grown beyond sixth year, and his inadequate nutrition as a child meant that he’d remained thin, despite his best efforts. Cass was tall for her age, and so she felt all arms and legs as she wriggled to get comfortable. Harry stroked her curls, and she buried her face into his jumper.

“He might not want me,” she said.

“Anything is possible, but I doubt that. Draco Malfoy is many things, but he isn’t a fool. And anyone who isn’t delighted to know you is obviously foolish.”

“You have to say that. You’re my dad.”

“I’d say it even if I weren’t.”

“Will you see Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione when we go?”

“I’m not sure. They may not want to see me.”

“Will you be sad if they don’t?”

“Yes. But I’m the one who left them, so it’s my own fault if it happens.”

“They’d be foolish if they didn’t want to see you.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Do you think we should go and reassure Severus and Minerva that neither of us is going to expire in misery?”

“In a minute.” Cass pulled his arms tighter around herself, and Harry relished the contact. He wasn’t sure how long he’d have the opportunity in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

One lovely thing about being a Wizard was how quickly and easily things like international travel were facilitated. The Portkey was arranged in a matter of days, and Harry set charms to take care of things within the house and cancelled his Girl’s Empowerment classes at the school for the foreseeable future. His business would simply have to wait. As Cass and Minerva bustled with their jackets and bags in the entryway, Harry lingered in the living room. “You’ll go to your portrait at Hogwarts?”

“Yes. And I’ll see you in your quarters once you’re settled.”

“Do you think the day will come when you don’t have to take care of me?”

“If it hasn’t happened yet, I doubt it will.”

“Good.”

Cass had never travelled so far by Portkey, and, unlike Harry, she landed gracefully on her feet with a huge smile on her face. “That was fun!”

Harry, who was struggling with waves of nausea, put his head between his knees. “You’re a demon, truly. Nobody can enjoy that.”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

They apparated from the Glasgow Portkey Terminal to Hogsmeade, and Harry had accumulated a splitting headache to accompany his roiling stomach. Minerva discretely passed him a potion, and he swallowed it gratefully. “Cheers, Min. You’re a lifesaver, truly.” It was the dinner hour, and Harry was grateful that people, for the most part, were occupied indoors with their meals, and not watching Harry Potter’s triumphant return to Scotland. 

“When we arrive, the house elves will take you directly to your quarters. I’ll join you there, and then we can discuss final details,” Minerva reminded them. Cass nodded, but Harry didn’t say anything. He was watching his daughter. They were cresting a hill, and if memory served, she would be getting her first glimpse of the Castle any moment. When it happened, Harry was glad he’d made a point of watching for it. Cass’ eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she gaped at the place she’d only ever seen pictures of.

“Auntie Min! It’s so much bigger than I thought. It’s beautiful!” Harry remembered a boat, and a lake, and an enormous castle, lit up in the night sky. He’d been so agog at every aspect of this new world he’d joined, but the Castle had immediately felt like coming home. He looked at it now, and his heart swelled with nostalgia. His first home. The first place he’d felt, even slightly, like he belonged somewhere.

“Can we go see the Chamber of Secrets first thing? No, wait, I want to see Uncle Professor’s classroom. And the Library. And the Room of Requirement.”

Harry laughed. “I promise you that you’ll see all of those things, but first we need to go to our quarters and get settled. There are a lot of details we need to sort out.”

Cass gave him a look, but was happy enough to be taken to see their quarters, especially as she met her first house elf, and they were quickly making friends. The elf gave Cass a longing look, as though she’d like to stay and chat longer, but Harry noticed, and assured the elf that she’d be welcome to return later.

“I don’t understand any of this secret sneaking stuff,” Cass said, once they were drinking tea in the sitting room of their guest quarters. 

Severus huffed from the portrait he'd entered. “Your father has likely understated his notoriety in the UK, Cass. You do know that he was a fairly public figure when he lived here?”

“Yeah, Boy who Lived, Voldemort,” she said, with an impatient wave of her hand. “That was like ten years ago or more, right?”

Minerva smiled. “It was rather a big deal here.”

“But it was so long ago. And dad said that a whole bunch of people helped to get rid of Lord Snakeface. Why would people single him out?”

“I don’t know, Cass, but they do. It’s stupid, but people have always been interested in me, because sometimes weird stuff happens to me. Like the Parseltongue, and the way my mum saved me. Then, I left with no warning, and of course the stupid newspapers made a big deal about that. It only stands to reason that they’ll be intrusive now that I’ve returned.” Harry gave her a reassuring smile.

“That’s dumb.”

“It is dumb,” Harry agreed. “And there’s you. People will do the math, and they’ll wonder how you came about. Since a male pregnancy, even in Wizards, is nearly unheard of, they’ll be looking for who your Mother is. They’ll want to know more about you.”

“Is this why you left?”

“Partly, yes. I never wanted you to be part of the spectacle. I hated the amount of attention I got, especially since it was for no good reason.”

Minerva and Severus exchanged another one of those cryptic looks they were so good at. Harry wanted no comments from either of them, so he continued, “And, most importantly of all, we need to be sensitive to the people who remained here after I left. People who knew me, and were fond of me. Ron and Hermione. Neville. Luna. The Weasleys.”

“My Papa?”

“Well, yes, but for different reasons. He’s going to be awfully upset with me when he learns that I didn’t tell him about you. He deserves better than to find out by reading tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.”

“So what happens now?” Cass wanted to know.

“I’ll send owls to everyone. Ask them to meet me first thing tomorrow. Give them the opportunity to have their say, meet you. I’ll try to find someone who does Public Relations tomorrow morning, and they can help us manage the storm.” Harry schooled his expression into one of optimism. “The Weasleys are going to adore you, Cass.”

“Daddy?” Cass’ voice was small.

“What is it, my heart?”

“What’s your number, right now?”

Harry stilled. When Cass was little, and wasn’t able to talk about the things that were bothering her, he’d started to ask her to score her feelings out of ten. One meant that she was contented and coping well, ten meant that she needed cuddles and ice cream, and for Harry to protect her from the world. She’d never asked him the question in return. “I’m fine, Cass, truly.”

“What’s your number?”

He smiled weakly. “Maybe a four. This isn’t my favourite vacation, but I’m fine.”

“So that means you’re actually about a nine,” she said shrewdly.

“I told you, Cass. I don’t lie to you.”

“No, but you lie to yourself more than you know. Do you remember when you fell off the roof of the shop? And then walked around with internal bleeding for a week, telling me and everyone else that you were ‘fine, just a bit tender’? You don’t think you’re allowed to be hurt, or sad, or weak.”

“Oh, little duck. You’re so smart you scare me sometimes. But it’s not your job to-”

“To take care of you, I know. You’re the dad, and I’m the kid. You’re the grownup, and I don’t need to worry,” she said wearily. Harry longed to gather her into his arms and apparate her home, away from all of this, and kiss the worry off her forehead, and get her the damned dog she wanted. But she was firmly giving off ‘don’t touch me’ messages with her body language, and so he merely sighed and put his head in his hands. She rose and headed in the direction of her appointed bedroom, pausing at the door to say, “I thought that family meant you took care of each other.” Then she thumped her door closed.

Harry sighed again, and summoned parchment and a self-inking quill. Minerva excused herself, and even Severus left the portrait, leaving behind some wary-looking sheep.

The letters to Ron and Hermione, Luna, Neville and Molly and Arthur were difficult, but Harry muddled his way through them, leaving the most difficult one for last. He started the letter several times, and on each attempt, balled the latest effort up and vanished it. In the end, he took the coward’s route, and merely penned:

_Dear Draco,_

_I have unexpectedly returned to the UK for a short period of time. There are several matters of time-sensitive importance that I had hoped to discuss with you. Could I ask that you visit me at Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon around 2? I apologize for the lack of notice, but I would not ask if it were not of vital importance. Please feel free to bring your wife and son, if you wish, as I understand that Mrs. Malfoy might be uncomfortable with you visiting on her own._

_Harry._

The letter said nothing, and Harry considered a post-script, but what could he say? _I’ve thought of you every day since the last one…Your daughter is so beautiful and so smart that I’ve always felt that I couldn’t be lucky enough to keep her…I would never have come back if you hadn’t needed me._

Giving it up as a bad job, he summoned a house elf. The one who had guided them to their quarters returned, and looked around the chambers for Cass. Her disappointment at not seeing her was evident. “What’s your name?” Harry asked.

“Ginger, Mister Harry Potter, sir.”

“You can call me Harry, if you don’t mind,” Harry said. “I was hoping that you could take these up to the owlry for me, and have them delivered immediately. Would that be okay?”

“Of course! Ginger is pleased to!”

“When you’ve finished, do you have time to return here?”

“Yes, Ginger is not being too busy today. Anything for Headmistress’s special guests!”

Ginger was back quickly, and Harry called for Cass. She emerged from her room looking a little sulky, but, knowing that the next few days would be difficult, Harry wasn’t about to revisit the previous conversation. “Cass, I know that you’re excited to see the castle, and I have to stay out of sight here in my rooms for the time being. I was wondering if you wanted to explore a little? Ginger, I know that I can trust you to keep Cass safe, and out of sight from any of the students or teachers?”

“Oh yes! Ginger is being extra careful with Harry Potter’s most precious person.”

Harry smiled. “Cass? How does that sound?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s okay.” Cass’ voice was cool, but Harry knew that she was excited. She just wanted to punish him a little for his earlier refusal to let her worry about him.

“Alright. Before I go, I have something for you. A little ‘welcome to Hogwarts’ treat.” Harry opened his trunk with a wave of his wand, and wordlessly summoned the gift. The fabric still felt like spun silver, and Harry ran his hand over it fondly. “This is one of the few heirlooms that I have to pass along to you. I was only a little older than you are now when it was given to me, and believe me, we will discuss some guidelines for its use when we return home. In the meantime, let me show you what it does.” Harry put the cloak on, grinning at the gasp of shock from his daughter.

“Dad. Invisibility cloak?”

“Yep. All yours, little duck. Your grandfather and his friends would be pleased that the newest little Marauder will wreak havoc through the halls of Hogwarts. One thing though? Don’t let Auntie Min know that I gave it to you.”

“Thanks, Dad. It’s brilliant.” Cass pulled the cloak on, saying, “Now, if only I had my wand,” and disappeared through the door with Ginger, leaving Harry to worry about what lay ahead of him. 

A flurry of owls had arrived, confirming the day ahead. Arthur, Molly, Ron and Hermione would arrive at 9, and Luna and Neville would join them at 10. As the day had passed, he wondered if he would hear from Draco at all, but as the house elves brought dinner, Draco’s owl confirmed that he, Astoria and Scorpius would see Harry at Hogwarts at 2, for tea.

The next morning, Harry lay awake in his bed. It was early, not yet five, but Harry knew that he wouldn’t sleep any longer. His sense of foreboding was all-encompassing. It was possible that everyone would be angry with him, formalize his exile from their affections. He was certain that Draco would be angry with him, but unsure about his reaction to Cass. Would he deny her? Worse, would he take her away from Harry right away? He was about to get up, try to pace some of the nervous energy away when his door opened, and a sleepy, pyjama-ed Cass drifted to the side of the bed, rubbing her eyes.

“Hey, little duck,” said Harry. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“You were thinking too loud,” she replied.

“I’m sorry, Cass. Come here.” Harry pulled the covers back, and Cass climbed in next to him. As a toddler, Cass had woken him like this every single morning, and memories of her bright eyes, and riot of curly hair made Harry’s heart clench.

“You’re dumb,” she said, gripping the cuff of his long sleeved henley. She played with the fabric, rubbing her thumb along the texture, just as she’d done as a baby.

“I know,” he agreed. “Any particular reason? Or just in general?”

“You think you have to protect me from everything. But I know you, dad. When you’re upset, I know it. I feel it. And I could help you, if you let me. But you insist on doing it all by yourself.”

“I’m not doing it because I don’t think you can help me, you know.”

“Dad. What’s the worst part of all of this?” Her tone was blunt, and Harry knew that if he didn’t answer her, he’d further fracture their relationship.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I hurt them when I left. I didn’t say goodbye, just ran away. I’m afraid that they won’t forgive me.”

“They’re your family,” she said. “They’ll forgive you. And if they don’t, you’ll still have me.”

“That’s the best part,” he said, and she snuggled into his side and told him all about the things she’d seen in the Castle the day before.

Minerva had made sure that their quarters had a large enough sitting room to accommodate visitors, and so when a knock sounded at exactly 9:00, Harry took an enormous breath, and cast a nervous glance at Cass’ room, where she’d agreed to stay until he could introduce her.

He answered the door, and was immediately overwhelmed by hair, and a tight hug around his neck. Hermione. All these years later, she smelled the same, and sounded the same, and looked the same. She burst into tears, and wept into his neck, and Harry blinked hard to avoid doing the same.

“Merlin, Hermione, give everyone else a chance, would you?” Hermione laughed and moved inside. Harry stepped back to let Ron and his parents in. Ron looked at him appraisingly, and said, “You’re still a shortarse, Harry, but you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He gave Harry and equally bone-crushing hug, and whispered into his ear, “I know you had your reasons, mate, but I missed you.”

Molly’s tears were more effusive than Hermione’s. She gripped his shoulders, cried, pulled him close, cried, and pushed him to arm’s length so that she could look at him. “Still too thin, but you look happy,” she decided. 

Arthur had hung back, and was the last to approach Harry. His hug was much gentler, and he simply said, “I’ve missed you, son.” This proved to be Harry’s undoing, and he finally gave way to the tears that had been threatening and cried into Arthur’s robes.

When everyone had regained their composure, Harry made sure they all had a seat, and some tea, and said, “I know you likely have a lot of questions for me, and I’ll answer them all, but there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“A girlfriend!” Molly cried.

“No, definitely not that,” Harry laughed, and opened Cass’ door. “Weasleys, I’d like you meet my daughter, Cassiopeia.” Molly gasped, and Ron and Arthur made nearly identical noises of shock.

Cass came into the room a bit shyly, but said, “I like to be called Cass. It’s nice to meet you. Dad has told me a lot about you all.”

Hermione was across the room in a flash. “I’m your Auntie Hermione. I’m so glad to meet you. I know we’ve just met, but could I give you a hug?”

“I like hugs,” Cass said, her shy little grin looking so much like a young Harry’s had, that Hermione nearly sobbed again as she held the little girl tightly. As introductions were made, and hugs were given, Hermione watched Harry, looking between his daughter and his family as though all of his Christmases and birthdays had come at once.

“So,” Harry said, “now you know what prompted me to leave the country in the middle of the night. I am so sorry about how I decided to leave, and that I didn’t tell you all properly. I have no excuse at all. You deserved better.”

“I understand why you wanted to leave, mate, but I don’t get why you didn’t tell us. Why you haven’t written, not once in all these years.”

“I’m ashamed of myself,” Harry said. “When I found out that I was pregnant, and realized how rare it was, I couldn’t imagine how people were going to react. Everyone already paid too much attention to me, with the war, and then when everyone found out I was gay, and then…I think I just hit my limit. I couldn’t handle anyone knowing that again, I was different. And I couldn’t risk…”

“You were afraid that another family would reject you because you weren’t like anyone else,” Ron said.

Harry shrugged. “It was different with the Dursleys, because they hated me right from the start. But I was so afraid that if I gave you all just one more reason, that it would be the last straw. And so I ran. And I told myself that because I chose to leave, that it wouldn’t hurt as much. I was wrong, as it happens. I’ve missed you all so much. And I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, mate, I can’t blame you for being afraid,” Ron said reasonably. “It’s not as though you had an easy time at the last, there. I feel terrible about not being as supportive as I could have been back then. I always thought that I made you leave.”

“No. No, Ron. It was all me. I just…Even though it was a big surprise, I was so excited when I learned I was going to have a baby. It felt like a miracle, and I was scared, absolutely terrified about becoming a Dad, but I knew that if someone made me feel like a freak, that it would break my heart.”

“Of course,” Arthur’s voice was quiet, but his tone was firm. “Of course you were frightened, Harry. We all understand that. I just want you to know, so that there’s no question of it going forward. You’re one of ours, Harry. Molly and I love you as much as we do the rest of our children. There is nothing in the world that you could do that would make us turn away on you. Nothing. And as for you, young lady,” Arthur turned mock-stern eyes on Cass. “It’s not every day that you get a child back _and_ a granddaughter. Your name might be Potter, but you’ll always be a Weasley too.”

Cass’ returning smile was breathtaking. “Thank you. And thank you for being my dad’s family.”

Another knock sounded through the quarters, and Neville and Luna arrived. They were thrilled to meet Cass, and delighted to see Harry again. Soon though, Molly and Arthur made excuses, and left, and Luna and Neville departed as well, promising to see Harry and Cass later in the week.

The elves brought food, and Ron and Cass became immersed in a game of chess. Hermione snuggled in next to Harry. “She’s wonderful,” Hermione said.

Harry smiled. “She is.” He turned to look at her. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I suspected. Never knew for sure.”

“That’s why you told Minerva? About the Malfoys?”

“I wasn’t sure if I should. Minerva said you were happy where you were, and we considered leaving well enough alone, but it felt too big to make the decision for you.”

“Yeah, I get it. I don’t know whether to hug you or hex you, if I’m being honest.”

“Are you ready? To see Draco?”

“No,” Harry said honestly. “It’s taking every bit of control I have not to grab Cass and run home.”

“You don’t want her to meet Draco?”

“I do. It will be good for her. And I want him to meet her. I’m just afraid I’ll lose her.”

Ron and Hermione left reluctantly about a half hour before the Malfoys were set to arrive. Hermione promised to owl Harry with the name of a good PR rep, and Harry said he’d floo them later. 

As Cass and Harry sat next to one another on the sofa, Harry said, “Are you excited?”

“Nervous,” Cass said. “He might not want me.”

“I don’t think that will happen,” Harry said soothingly.

“He didn’t keep you, dad. Why would he want me?”

“It’s very different. Just keep an open mind.”

When the knock sounded, Harry wondered absently if he might pass out, or throw up, or both. He was quite impressed with himself when he did neither, even if his hands shook when he opened the door.

As he stepped aside to let the Malfoy family in, he took a moment to feast on the sight of Draco. He was still beautiful after ten years. He’d put on more muscle, and he was wearing his hair shorter, shaved underneath, with a bit of floppy length on top. Harry had told himself that he’d imagined how grey his eyes were, but they were even more stunning than he recalled. The handshake they exchanged was awkward, but Harry still felt weak at the touch of Draco’s long, slim fingers. His hand was chilly, and for a split second, he remembered how they had once felt, touching his overheated skin. 

Then, a tall, beautiful blonde woman was standing in front of him, and he recovered, and said, “Mrs. Malfoy, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Astoria, please. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

An absolutely adorable blonde boy was peering up at Harry with unmistakable interest. “Are you Harry Potter?”

Harry smiled. “Yes, I am. Are you Scorpius Malfoy?”

The boy gasped. “Yes! How do you know me? I know your name because I have a storybook about you.”

“I don’t have a storybook about you, but my friend Hermione said you were the smartest four and-a-half year old she’d ever met.”

“Papa! Did you hear that?” 

“I did,” Draco replied, his face neutrally polite.

“Draco, Astoria, Scorpius, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Cassiopeia Narcissa Potter.”

The look on Draco’s face altered so suddenly, it was as though he’d been slapped. “She has a star name,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Harry agreed.

“And my Mother’s name.”

“Yes.” Harry could barely breathe. The tension that gnawed at his chest grew steadily more intense. 

Astoria said smoothly, “Hello Cassiopeia. It’s lovely to meet you, dear.”

“Thank you Mrs. Malfoy, you too. I like to be called Cass.”

“Please call me Astoria. Scorpius, can you come say hello to Cass?”

“Hello, my name is Scorpius Amicus Greengrass-Malfoy. I like being called Scorp. Or Pius. Or Pi.”

Cass grinned at him. “That’s a fancy name.”

“I’m a fancy person,” he said seriously, and Cass laughed.

Draco was watching her intently, his eyes searching her face, her eyes, her hair, her hands. “Hello Cass,” he said softly.

“Hello,” she answered, just as softly.

_Please, Draco_ , Harry begged silently. _Please don’t reject her. Please don’t make her feel like she isn’t enough_. “Draco,” Harry said out loud. “There’s no easy way to give information like this, and I realize it’s quite surprising, but Cass is your daughter.”

“Yes,” Draco whispered. “Of course she is.” He was gazing at her in awe, and Harry was so ashamed he’d robbed him of this for nearly ten years that his nails bit into his palms within his clenched hands.

“I’m sure you have lots of questions, and I’m ready to answer them. I don’t know whether you want Scorpius to stay here with us, or go have hot chocolate with the house elves.”

“No, he can stay. Of course he will want to spend time with his sister,” Astoria said.

“Dad, I’ll just get the exploding snap deck. Scorp and I can play while you talk,” Cass said.

“That’s good, little duck. Thanks.”

The house elves, bless them, arrived with a tray, and soon, Cass and Scorpius were settled by the fire with their game and hot chocolate, and the adults were sitting with tea. Draco looked as though he’d been hit in the stomach with a bludger. His eyes never left his daughter. He watched her as though he could drink up every moment of her life, everything he’d missed out on.

“So, I know that you likely have a lot that you want to say to me,” Harry began nervously, “and we’ll get to that, I promise. I just want to start out by saying that the reason we’re back in Scotland is because Cass has agreed to get tested to see if she’s a bone marrow match for Scorpius. I probably could have found a better way to say that too, but I’m terrible at this sort of thing, and I know it’s got to be on your mind constantly.”

Astoria stood suddenly, and moved quickly over to where Cass was sitting. She hugged her firmly, and whispered something into her ear. Cass smiled and patted her hand.

When she returned to her seat, she took one of Harry’s hands. “Harry, I’ll never be able to thank you for this. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am.”

“No, no,” Harry said, waving his hands a little. “It’s Cass who will deserve your gratitude. She’s the one who’s going through the procedure. If the situation were in reverse, I just know that I’d be frantic, and I wanted to make sure that I got that out of the way before…”

“Before I told you that I’d be suing you for full custody and damages?” Draco said. 

Draco’s voice was low, and dangerous, and Harry’s heart felt like it had stopped. He’d been terrified of this moment for ten years, but hearing Draco confirm the only thing that he ever truly feared, was worse than he’d imagined. He tried vainly to get a breath, but it wasn’t working. His heart seemed to notice that it had lost track of things, and so it sped to catch up, and then, all Harry could hear was its thumping. His vision started to grey around the edges. Suddenly, cool hands were bracketing his face, and Astoria was there, directly in his dimming line of sight. “Okay,” she said. “You’re okay, Harry. Just focus on my voice. You’re here, and you’re okay.”

He gasped a breath, and when that seemed to work, he tried another. “Daddy?” Cass grabbed his hand, looking very young, and very frightened.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice coming out croaky. “Sorry to scare you, little duck, I just lost my breath for a second.” She petted his hair for a moment, looking at him closely. Then she cast a filthy look at Draco, and slowly returned to sit by Scorpius. As they resumed their chatter, she kept a wary eye on the discussion amongst the adults.

“Draco,” Astoria said, her voice ice cold. “First impressions won’t be made again after you’re no longer in a strop.”

“In a strop?” Draco was coldly incredulous. “In a str-Astoria, I have a daughter! A daughter who has been living Merlin-knows-where, and I’ve only just learned that she existed today. I’m in more than a bloody strop!” Cass was watching him very closely again, her eyes narrowed.

“Draco! That’s enough. This is what we are going to do. Today, we will not be discussing anything that took place before Cass was born. That is a discussion that you and Harry will have separately, in private, on another day. Today, we will get to know one another, and make some plans about helping Scorpius. Is that understood?”

“Astoria, you are overstepping your boundaries,” Draco warned.

“Perhaps. But right now, I am concerned with a little boy who has enough on his plate already, and a young lady who is watching a stranger scream at her Dad.”

“Whose fault is it that I’m a stranger?” Draco glared at Harry, who closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“I’m not sure that this is a time for assigning blame,” Astoria shot back. “I, for one, am delighted to meet Cass, and I want to know all about her. And I’m sure that Cass has questions for all of us as well.”

Harry looked at Astoria gratefully. He wanted to help her smooth things over, ease the way for Cass and Scorpius, but he knew that anything he said right now would incite Draco to further rage. It was distracting, having Draco treat him the way he had in school, when Harry remembered them getting past it all. Cass, as usual, sensed his unease, and came over to climb into his lap. As her fingers found the cuff of his button down, she said, “Astoria, can you tell me more about whether or not I can help Scorpius?”

“Of course I can, darling. If your dad says it’s okay, we’ll bring you to Scorpius’ Healer, and she will take some samples of your blood. It will sting just a little bit. Scorpius has had it done many times, so he can tell you more about what to expect. They’ll do some spells on your blood, to see whether it’s compatible with Scorpius’. If it is, the healing team will likely want to do some additional testing on you, to make sure that you’re as healthy as you look, and that it won’t cause you any problems to donate your bone marrow.”

“I’m compatible with Scorpius,” Cass said firmly.

“Well, I very much hope that’s true. Even if it doesn’t work out that way, we’re so lucky to meet you. I assume you’re still in primary school?”

Cass looked confused, and Harry jumped in to say, “Cass and I live in Canada, and the school system works a little bit differently there. Cass is nearly ten, and so she’s in grade five. Children in our district stay in the same school until grade eight, and then move on to secondary school. She goes to a neighbourhood school, and she is doing very well.”

“What subject do you like to learn best?”

“I like math and science best.”

“And what about magic,” Astoria asked. “Many children your age will soon start to show signs of accidental magic. Has that happened to you?”

Harry grinned. “Yes,” he said with feeling. “Cass started summoning things when she was two. It drove me mental, because she’d never do it when I could see. I’d just find her in her playpen with a plate of cookies. She’s also an intuitive thought reader, and when she’s connected with someone, she has to work hard to avoid sensing their thoughts.”

“I don’t have a lot of control yet,” Cass said, wrinkling her nose. “When I get mad, I sometimes make stuff explode. I know that when I get my wand, I’ll be able to get a lot better, but some people have stupid rules about giving their children wands.”

“Some people had to wait until they were eleven to get theirs,” Harry reminded her. 

Draco had been watching this exchange, outwardly poised, but his eyes reflecting his fury. Harry sensed that he wasn’t going to stay quiet for much longer, and was fearful about what he would say. He was wracking his brain to think of a way to change the subject, when Scorpius piped up, “Mister Harry?”

“Yes, Scorpius?”

“Is it true that you can talk to snakes?”

Harry smiled. “Yes, it’s true. Do you want to see something even cooler, though?” He looked at Cass, and when she smiled and nodded, conjured a tiny green snake and placed it into her hand. She smiled at the little creature, and began to hiss at it. The snake became very alert, and nodded, and then hissed something back.

“Wow! Cass!” Scorpius was jumping up and down. “That’s amazing! What did he say?”

“I told him that I met a new kid today, and that he was really cool, and he said he wanted to be your friend.”

“He did?” Scorpius’ eyes were wide and his smile was enormous. Astoria and Harry exchanged pleased little smiles.

Cass seemed to feel that Harry was safe again, and so she and Scorpius took the snake to slither around the carpet.

“Harry, she’s really special,” Astoria said warmly.

“Scorpius is too. He’s such a bright little spark.”

“I like that. It’s very apt. Have you been having a nice time in Scotland so far?”

“Well, we’ve only been here, in this room. I wanted to make sure that anyone who had a right to know about Cass didn’t learn about her from the newspaper. In fact, I’m hoping to meet with a PR rep tonight to manage things. Is there anything specific you do or don’t want us to say?”

Harry took a chance on looking at Draco, whom he’d been carefully avoiding. He was leaning insolently against a wall, his face carefully arranged in a sneer. He huffed. “Say what you want, Potter.”

“I don’t think that’s fair, though,” Harry said, wishing he were able to say things properly. “I’m happy to say nothing about Cass’ other parent, but I wouldn’t dream of denying you, if you wanted to make it public. I’d prefer to know what you’d rather.”

“Does it matter? Either way, it’s an impossible position for me. Either I admit that I’m her parent, and the press goes insane about a male pregnancy, and our past relationship, and my family doesn’t get a moment of peace, or I don’t admit it, and Cass thinks I’m ashamed of her. You’ve set me up, Potter. I can’t possibly win.” Harry looked carefully at his eyes. There wasn’t a trace of the warmth they’d once shown him. It wasn’t that he’d hoped for anything better. No, that wasn’t true. A stupid, innocent part of Harry had hoped that this would have gone better. He felt a familiar pang of disappointment. It was just like each birthday, each Christmas, when he’d been growing up. Hoping that this year, his family might remember him, only to be reminded that he didn’t matter after all.

“I didn’t think it was about winning or losing,” Harry said quietly.

“Honestly, Potter, I don’t think you thought about this at all. This is what I hated the most about when we were together! Nothing is ever simple with you.”

Harry tried not to let the hurt show on his face. “I suppose you made the right decision all those years ago, then.” He stood up. “I’m very sorry to cut this short, but I’m starting to feel a little under the weather. Astoria, if you don’t mind owling me when you’ve made an appointment for Cass to see Scorpius’ Healer? We will make ourselves available whenever is convenient.”

Astoria touched his arm. “Of course, Harry, we’ll be in touch. Thank you for having us.”

The moment the door closed behind them, Cass turned to Harry. “Dad, I don’t like him.”

Harry sighed. “He didn’t really show you his best side today, Cass, but in his defence, Draco got an awful shock today, and he’s never his best when he’s blindsided. He has every right to be angry with me.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t even talk to me. He doesn’t care about me at all. He was way more interested in picking at you.”

“I’m sorry, little duck. I hope you’ll give him another chance. What did you think of Scorpius?”

“He’s so cute,” Cass gushed. “I’m not sure how a jerk like Draco could have such a sweet kid. He must take after his mum completely.”

“Astoria is lovely,” Harry said. “And so is Scorpius, but don’t write Draco off completely. He made a terrible first impression on me too, once.”

Harry had just gotten into the story of his first encounter with Draco in Madame Malkin’s, when a knock sounded at the door. It was a house elf, bearing a letter from Hermione.

_Hi Harry;_

_Hope this afternoon went well. I reached out to some of my contacts here at the Ministry, and they all tell me that there’s nobody better than Pansy Parkinson. (Yes, the one we went to school with). I know you’re already making that face, but I’ve crossed paths with her a few times in the past few years, and I think she’s a good choice._

_I took the liberty of booking an appointment for you. She’ll be by at six. If you absolutely hate her, I’ll find you someone else, but give her a shot, okay?_

_Floo call me later,_  
Love,  
Hermione. 

Pansy arrived at six on the dot, wearing a form fitting jersey dress over dragonhide boots. Her hair was short and spiky, and her makeup was done impeccably. A tiny diamond stud glinted in her left nostril. She looked a lot cooler than Harry remembered from school, and he suspected that her Pureblood parents didn’t approve of her very Muggle attire.

“Potter, you’ve grown up!” Her smile was sharp, but genuine, and Harry found himself grinning back. “I was surprised to hear from Hermione.”

“Yes, I didn’t expect to be back in town, especially with so little notice, but circumstances required it. Do you think you could call me Harry? I feel like we’re a bit beyond the last name stuff.”

“Yeah, sure. Oh, and I suppose it needs to be said, I’m sorry for trying to grass you up to the Dark Lord.”

Harry laughed again. “Yeah, no, I get it. It was a weird night. I never blamed you. Not for that.”

Her smile grew more feline. “Oh really? What did you blame me for?”

“Well, you were a right cow to me every other time you got a chance. I was a lot more annoyed by that. Either way though, it’s all in the past, and I’ve no hard feelings. Before we continue though, I suppose I need to address something. In school, you were one of Draco Malfoy’s closest friends. Are you still close?”

“Yes, although we’re both busy. I don’t get to see him as often as I used to.”

“This might present a conflict of interest for you then. I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but my life is a bit more entwined with Draco’s than you know.”

“Harry, I’m a professional. Whatever schoolboy conflict you continue to have with Draco is none of my concern. I can promise you that if you hire me, you can rely on my discretion, my secrecy, and I will advocate for you, not let my personal friendships sway me.”

“It’s not really a schoolboy conflict, but that’s good to hear. If, after I tell you everything, you decide that you can’t represent me, I’ll understand, but I’ll ask you not to speak of what I’m telling you. Can you live with that?”

“Of course. I’ll swear a blood vow to you if required.”

“Merlin no. Just an agreement is fine.”

“So how can I help you?”

“Yeah. As you might recall, I got rather a lot of attention as I was growing up, and I fear my return to England is going to prompt the same treatment again. Normally, I wouldn’t give a fig about what the press says, but I’m not here alone, and I’m very protective of my travelling companion.”

“That’s fair. So you’re looking for help in managing the media, keeping the public at bay?”

“Yes, among other things, if they’re within your abilities.”

“That sounds awfully ominous.”

“Cass?” Harry called, and Cass appeared from her room. “Cass, I’d like you to meet Pansy Parkinson. She and I went to Hogwarts together, and she’s going to help us handle communications. Pansy, this is my daughter, Cassiopeia Narcissa Potter.”

“Hello Ms. Parkinson,” Cass said, holding out her hand. Pansy shook it with bemusement and then turned wide eyes toward Harry.

“Potter. This child is a perfect combination of you and Draco.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to kill him. He kept this from me for how many years?”

“Well, about that…That’s where the potential conflict comes in.”

“You left. You left and you didn’t tell him that you were pregnant. Potter.” Pansy’s eyes flashed, and her grip on her wand tightened.

“I know. I know. He’s absolutely furious with me, as he has every right to be. I left the UK without telling anyone for what seemed very good reasons. I honestly thought that I was doing the right thing. None of that matters now, because I’ve cocked it all up, but I swear to you, Pansy, I didn’t do this to hurt Draco.”

“I have so many questions.”

“I bet. I’ll answer as many as I can, but there are parts of the story that I haven’t yet been able to tell Cass, and some things that Draco doesn’t know either. I will be as honest as I can be, and while there are things I won’t explain to you, I won’t lie, either.” Harry turned to Cass. “Little duck, would you mind going to your room to read? I promise you I won’t tell Pansy anything you don’t already know, and since she’s Draco’s friend, it’s a bit delicate.”

“I guess,” she said. “I feel like all we’ve done is talk about the same things all day.”

“I know. We’ll have a better day tomorrow, I promise.”

Cass hesitated for a moment, and then threw her arms around her father. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered. “I don’t care if he doesn’t want me either. You’re still my dad. It’s okay.”

As the door closed behind her, Harry wasn’t sure which one of them she was reassuring.

“He hurt her feelings,” Pansy said, the moment they were alone.

“Yeah. He was really angry with me, and you know how Draco reacts with unexpected information. I swear, I didn’t try to set him up, I’m just trying to be fair to everyone, but it seems like I can’t help but keep fucking it all up.”

“So, he was so focused on being poisonous to you, he completely ignored his daughter.”

Harry nodded. “Not a great first impression. He says he’s going to sue me for custody and damages.”

Pansy sighed. “He’s never been rational when it comes to you.”

“So now you can understand why I need your help. It’s actually a good thing that you’re still close to Draco. I don’t want him or his family hurt by this. We’re only here because Cass wants to donate bone marrow to Scorpius. I need you to make sure that we’re protecting them, and Cass.”

Pansy looked at him for a long moment. “And what about yourself?”

“I don’t care about that. I just want Cass’ privacy protected, and Draco’s.”

“Always the self-sacrificing Gryffindor.”

Harry was suddenly exhausted. “Don’t. Don’t be that way. I know I was always a big joke to you and your friends, but I was just a stupid kid trying to survive. This isn’t going to work if you sneer at me instead of help me.”

“Harry.” Something in her voice made him look up. “You weren’t a joke.” Her brown eyes were filled with sincerity. Harry shrugged, uncomfortable. “Alright, no sneering.”

“So, Draco told me that I placed him in a terrible position when it comes to any public statements about Cass. If he acknowledges her, the press will have a field day, and if he doesn’t, he is rejecting her. He has a point.”

“Let me handle that. We’re going to release a brief statement to the press tomorrow confirming that you and your daughter are in town on personal business. We’ll schedule a press conference for a week from then, and you and I will practice your responses in advance. We won’t mention Draco or his family at all, but we’ll say that you intend to spend the time showing your daughter the place of your birth, and catching up with family and school friends.”

“Do you think that will appease the press?”

“No, not in the slightest. We’ll also hire a security firm who will ensure that they deal with any intrusive photographers or fans.”

“Thanks. I suppose a lawyer will help when Draco sues me for custody as well. They can help me try to get visitation.”

“Harry, do you really think that Draco will try to take her from you?”

Harry shrugged miserably. “It was the first thing he said. She’s family. You know how he is about that. And my position is indefensible. I didn’t tell him he had a daughter. He has rights, Pansy.” He stood. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen for ten years. At least I got some time with her. I remember a lot from the first ten years of my life, I’m sure Cass will too.” Saying the words made him feel so suddenly lonely, that he said, “It’s been an awfully long day. Are we finished for now?”

Pansy looked like she wanted to say something, but she stood and smoothed down her dress. “Yes, we’re done. I’ll send over contracts for you to sign tonight.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to agree to help me, especially when you found out that I betrayed your best friend. I appreciate it.”

Astoria’s owl had asked Harry and Cass to meet them at their flat in London before the appointment with Scorpius’ Healer. Harry smoothed his robes again as he prepared to step through the floo. “Ready, Cass?”

“I suppose. I don’t know why we can’t meet them at the Healer’s.”

“I’m not sure. Do you really mind?”

“I bet he will be there.”

“I expect so, as it’s Draco’s home. Cass? Could you try, as a favour to me, to give him another shot?”

Cass shrugged. “Fine. I’ll try.”

“Thank you, little duck.”

Harry stepped out of the floo behind Cass, who had travelled ahead with Greg. Harry had been surprised to learn that Gregory Goyle was the owner of the security firm that Pansy had hired. He’d been even more surprised when Greg himself had taken lead on protecting the Potters. Greg had shaken his hand, with a repentant face, and said, “Mister Potter, I know that we had a terrible relationship in school, but I’ve learned a lot since then. I’m not the same brainless follower that I was. I’m sorry for how I treated you, and I’m grateful that you and your friends rescued Draco and I that day in the Room of Requirement.” The sincere apology had smoothed things over, but Cass’ immediate affinity for the massive man had been what had sealed the deal. He was built like an oak tree, but was incredibly gentle and protective with Cass. As far as Harry was concerned, anyone who loved his daughter was worthy of a second chance.

Astoria was waiting for them in a wide, spacious family room. “Harry,” she said warmly, kissing his cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thanks for having us.” Harry looked around. “Where did Cass go?”

Astoria laughed. “Scorpius has been lying in wait since six o’clock this morning for her arrival. When she arrived on Greg’s arm, he practically exploded with delight, and dragged them both to his room.”

As Harry started to reply, Draco entered the room, holding a parchment and saying, “Astoria, have you seen the…Potter.” 

Harry tensed. “Good morning, Draco.”

“I just need to take care of something before we leave,” Draco said. “Astoria, a moment?”

They left the room, and Harry stood awkwardly, looking at the family photos on the mantle. It was a chronology of their family. Draco and Astoria, looking young and hopeful on their bonding day. A heavily pregnant Astoria, flanked by a proud Draco. Tiny Scorpius, cradled in Draco’s hands. A perfect little family. Harry breathed through the pain, as he felt the loss again. 

He remembered the first few days after Cass was born. Poppy Pomphrey had been his healer, the only medical professional Harry trusted, and she and Minerva had stayed with Harry until his incisions had healed and he’d caught up a little on sleep. They’d wanted to stay longer, but Harry knew they had responsibilities at Hogwarts, and he felt he needed to prove he could do it on his own.

Cass had been a placid baby, for the most part, but she seemed to need almost no sleep. She’d close her eyes for a half hour, then they’d pop open again. She was content as long as she could see Harry, but the minute he moved from her field of vision, she’d scream until he returned. Hormonal, guilt-stricken and exhausted, Harry had tried to stay awake, to nap when she did, but he still had to make bottles, and eat once in a while, so he took advantage of her sleeping time to do so. After four straight days of this routine, desperate, he sat in the living room in a soft armchair, holding a week-old Cass close to his face so she could see him, and dozed until she cried again. He begged Snape to keep an eye from his portrait, in case he dropped her, or something happened while he was asleep.

When Minerva arrived at his doorstep the following morning, having been summoned from Hogwarts by a concerned Snape, he sobbed. “I can’t do it,” he wept. “Can you take her? Give her to someone who can do this properly?” She’d sent him to bed, and, when he’d awoken four hours later, patiently helped him get Cass on a proper sleep schedule. It had gotten better, but he still remembered the feeling of being utterly alone, with no clue how to cope. It had taken him years to stop doubting whether he was capable of being Cass’ dad.

“Harry?” Astoria’s voice interrupted his recollections. “We’ll be ready to go in a moment. I’m just going to go make sure that Scorpius is prepared.”

“Oh, sure. That’s fine,” he said, the recalled emotions still churning through him. He turned, and saw that Draco was standing in the doorway, looking at him. Feeling awkward, he finally said, “She…uh…she likes Quidditch. A lot. If…um, you were looking for a way to start a conversation with her.”

Draco’s face twisted. “I don’t need your help,” he snapped. “Why are you even giving me any? It’s not like you wanted me to get to know her before this.”

The stress and emotion of the previous days overwhelmed Harry for a moment, and his temper rose. “Because,” he snapped back, “she’s the most important thing in the world to me, and when you take her away, I want her to feel like someone cares about her.”

Draco’s face was unreadable, but he said, “Potter,” before Scorpius came tearing into the room, and ended the conversation.

Harry liked Healer Clarke immediately. She greeted him warmly, but her eyes didn’t flick up to his scar the way that most people’s did. She also had far more interest in Cass than in Harry, which was exactly as it should be.

“Cass, thank you for coming to meet me,” she said warmly. “My name is Cecile Clarke, but you can call me Cici, just as Scorpius does.”

“Cici, I have a sister!” Scorpius said delightedly.

“And isn’t that wonderful?” Cici asked. “Astoria mentioned that you’d be willing to undergo some testing to see if you can help manage Scorpius’ condition.”

“Yes,” Cass said, her voice sounding clear and not at all nervous. “If there’s any way that I can help Scorp, I want to do it.”

“Thank you,” Cici said. “You’re very generous.”

“It’s family,” Cass said simply.

Cici explained the testing, and what would happen if the children’s blood was compatible. When she finished her explanation, Harry cleared his throat. “Would I be able to ask a couple of questions?”

“Certainly.”

“I know that with some types of organ donations, the donor has to maintain certain protocols after the donation is completed. If Cass donates her bone marrow, will it affect her quality of life in the long term?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Cici replied. “The good news is that, once she donates, her body will generate replacement bone marrow to make up for what was taken. Although there are minimal chances for infection, it is a small risk, and once she’s healed, her life will continue as it did before.”

“That’s good,” Harry said. “And is the extraction process painful? Is the recovery time lengthy?”

“The extraction isn’t exactly comfortable, but we’ll use a sleeping draught to make sure that we offset any discomfort Cass might encounter. She will feel a little bit of tenderness around the extraction site after she awakens for as long as a week afterwards, but again, we’ll manage that using potions. Within a few weeks, her body will have regenerated the bone marrow.”

“Okay, thanks,” Harry said. “Cass, it’s your decision. Would you like to proceed with the testing?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful,” Cici said. “I’ll just have my Mediwizard come and take the blood samples then.”

When Dean Thomas entered the room, Harry’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected to see his old dorm mate, and he hoped that he could count on him not to share this with the media. Dean’s warm brown eyes widened when he spotted Harry. “Harry! Long time no see, mate. How have you been?”

“Good, Dean. It’s good to see you again. You’ve been well?”

“Yes, very. Is this your daughter?”

“Yes, Dean Thomas, please meet Cass Potter,” Harry said. He was still nervous, but there was nothing to be done.

Dean busied himself with taking samples, but just before he left the room with the vials of blood, he said, “Hey Harry? I just wanted you to know that we take patient confidentiality really seriously. I’m thrilled to see you, and to meet Cass, but I won’t be running off to the Prophet on my lunch break.”

Harry sighed with relief. “Thanks Dean. I’m not trying to hide anything, but you know how they like to run with a story, and it’s not just my privacy at stake anymore.”

Dean winked. “No worries, mate. I’ll just go test this blood.”

“You’re brave,” Scorpius told Cass when Dean had left. “Sometimes I cry when they take blood.”

“I’m tough,” she reassured him. 

“Cass barely seems to notice when she gets hurt,” Harry laughed. “You could knock her down with a lorry and she’d come up swinging, but if you hurt her feelings? Look out!”

Cass gave him a little glare, and Harry grinned unrepentantly at her. Until Draco murmured, sotto voce, “Wonder where she gets that from.” The smile faltered, until he noticed Cass looking at him, and he forced it back.

Cici bustled back in, her face wreathed in smiles. “I have the results of Cass’ blood tests. I’m absolutely delighted to tell you that she’s an excellent match.”

Harry gripped Cass’ hand tight. “That’s amazing news,” he murmured.

Astoria stood, and crossed the room to stand in front of Harry. Her eyes were bright, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She gripped Harry’s face, much as she had in Harry’s quarters, when he’d nearly passed out, and touched her forehead to his. “Thank you, thank you,” she said quietly.

Harry touched her hand gently. “No need to thank me. I understand, Astoria, truly I do. If you want to, thank Cass. It’s been her decision, and she’s the one who will be going through the discomfort.”

Astoria did exactly that, wrapping Cass into a tight hug and whispering into her ear. Cass listened intently, nodding a bit, before she flung her arms around Astoria. Harry’s eyes flicked to Scorpius, who was watching his mother and sister approvingly, and then to Draco. Draco was watching his daughter with a look of wonder in his eyes. Heart sinking, Harry understood what lurked beneath his gaze. Draco had been worried about hoping too much. He’d kept his distance, afraid that if he wanted it too much, that his hopes would come crashing down around him. Now that he knew that Cass would be able to save his son, he could set his sights on his daughter. Knowing from experience that Potters had next to no resistance to his charms, it was simply a matter of time before Cass was under his spell.

They made arrangements for Cass to return for further testing two days hence, and flooed back to the Malfoys’ flat. As Harry stepped across the grate, he saw a familiar figure sitting elegantly in an armchair by the window. “Mrs. Malfoy,” he said, his voice wavering only a little.

Having mastered her elegant, expressionless gaze long before Harry had even been born, Mrs. Malfoy’s lips curved into a small smile. “I thought we’d agreed long ago that we were to be Narcissa and Harry. Unless you’d prefer me to call you Mister Potter?”

“No, no. Harry, please. I just…uh, didn’t want to presume.”

“And I understand you have someone for me to meet,” Narcissa continued.

“Um, yes,” Harry said. “Narcissa, I’d like for you to meet Cass. Cassiopeia Narcissa. Cass, this is your-”

“My Grand-Mère,” Cass said, crossing the room to stand in front of Narcissa. She smiled at her, and said, “My dad made me a photo album when I was little. Your picture was always my favourite.”

“That’s a lovely thing to say, dear. Your name is beautiful. What do you like to be called?”

“Cass, mostly.”

“Well then, Cass, maybe you’d sit with me until dinner? We have a great deal to catch up on."

Scorpius sat on one side of Narcissa, and Cass settled on the other. Harry looked around the room for a moment, at all of these beautiful blonde people, and started to back away in the direction of the floo. Narcissa caught the movement and said, “Harry, dear, you aren’t leaving, are you? Scorpius has just told me that Cass is going to be his bone marrow donor.”

“Um, I just…”

“Harry, this is a time to celebrate, a time for family to be together,” Narcissa chided gently.

It was the wrong thing to say. Harry’s eyes widened, and he reeled as though he’d been struck. “I, um. I just have to take care of some…Cass? You’re alright? I’ll come pick you up after dinner?”

“I’m fine, dad, but you should stay.”

“No, I’d love to, but I…just need to…um.”

Astoria caught his arm. “This way, Harry.” She led him into an entry way. His breaths were coming fast and hard, and she squeezed his shoulder a little. “She didn’t mean it the way you’re interpreting it,” she said.

“No, of course,” Harry said, a little frantically. “I just have things…to take care of?” 

His face looked so desperate, that Astoria took pity on him. “Okay. Cass will be fine here, and although we would also love you to stay, I see that you have something that requires your urgent attention. You should come back at eight to pick her up. Can you promise me something though?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Harry said, his entire focus on getting away.

“I don’t think that you should be alone right now. I know the look on your face very well. Will you go to your friend Granger?”

Harry nodded, and Astoria said, “Very well, you can apparate from here.”

Harry did so, and it was a very surprised Hermione who opened her front door to let Crookshanks out some time later, only to find a man sitting on her front step. Although his back was the to the door, the tousled hair was a dead giveaway. “Harry?”

When he turned, the look on his face made Hermione’s welcome small fall away. “Oh no,” she said. “Was Cass not a match for Scorpius?”

“No,” he said. “She was.”

“That’s good, then. From your face, I thought something was wrong.”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he replied. “She’s at Draco’s house now. They’re all having dinner.”

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry.”

“No,” he protested. “I want this for her, I do. She deserves to know them. They deserve to know how amazing she is.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just being a bit childish. Feel a little left out. Never had to do this before, yeah?”

Tea was duly served, and Harry finally got to meet Rose and Hugo. He filled Hermione and Ron in on the healer’s appointment. He didn’t discuss the awkwardness at the Malfoy’s, and they, thankfully, distracted him with what they’d been up to in the preceding ten years. It was a lot like it had been before Harry had moved away, and he was grateful that they could pick up where they left off. As he chatted, and listened, though, he was thinking of Cass. Was she having a good time? Was Draco being kind to her?

He was relieved when 8:00 arrived, and he could step through the floo to the Malfoy’s. He looked around quickly, his heart settling a little when he spotted the familiar blonde curls bent over a chessboard. Draco was sitting opposite her, watching her as she contemplated her next move.

“Harry, you’re right on time.” Narcissa greeted him from her armchair.

“Hi Narcissa. Yeah, I try to do exactly what I promise Cass.”

“Come sit by me. Astoria is just putting Scorpius to bed.” Harry went to sit in the armchair next to Narcissa, wondering if he could just snatch his daughter up and leave. “Harry, she’s absolutely charming. Just a lovely girl.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“It was rather a surprise to meet her, though.”

“Yes. I apologize. I know that I’ve robbed you of knowing her, and I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“It’s hard to defend them now, though.”

“Harry, may I ask you something?” Narcissa kept her voice low, so as not to be overheard by the two blonde heads across the room.

“Um, sure?”

“Did you love my son?”

Harry sighed, and looked over to where Draco and Cass were exchanging tentative smiles. Cass caught Harry’s eyes and waved. Draco looked up at him, and then looked away just as quickly. “Yes. I loved him so much that I would have done anything for him.”

“And do you now?”

Harry thought about not answering her. It was a horribly intrusive question, and it seemed particularly rude to ask it under the circumstances. “You don’t stop loving someone like Draco.” Her face turned a little sad, and he hurried to say, “Please don’t worry, Mrs. Malfoy. I have no intention of interfering with Draco’s family. I won’t ruin things for him, I promise.” Her face turned a lot sad when he said that, and he was struggling to figure out what he’d said wrong when Astoria returned. 

She perched on the arm of Harry’s chair. “It went well,” she said. “They’re finding common ground.”

“They’re a lot alike,” Harry said. “I’m glad. They deserve this.”

The chess game ended, and Harry stood to leave. Greg rose from his place in the corner. Cass hugged Astoria and Narcissa, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, gave Draco a stiff hug as well.


	4. Chapter 4

Later, after Cass had gone to bed, Harry heard a little voice say, “Dad?”

He stepped into her room. She looked tiny in the big four-poster. “Can’t sleep?”

“I miss my stars,” she said. Harry had spent weeks figuring out the charm that made the ceiling of the Hogwarts Great Hall look like the sky. The day he’d managed to recreate it on Cass’ ceiling, her smile had been like the sun, and Harry treasured the memory of it.

“Wait til you see the real thing tomorrow,” he promised.

“Dad?”

“Yeah little duck?”

“He wasn’t so bad.”

“I’m glad. Thank you for giving him another chance. He’s not rejecting you, you know.” _Just me_ , Harry thought.

“Will you tell me?”

“It’s a long story. What part do you want, the happy part or the sad part?”

“Start with the happy part.”

So Harry did. “The first thing you need to know, is that Draco and I were enemies the whole time we were at school. We were two sides of the same coin. Both of us had adults telling us what to think, and the older we got, the higher the stakes were. It was an awful time, kiddo, and neither Draco nor I had the maturity or the support to deal with it. It’s a lot more complicated than that, and someday I’ll tell you more, but for now, all you need to know is that Draco and I were set up to hate one another.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yeah, but everyone was doing their best. War’s funny that way. Sometimes, people convince themselves that the crappy decisions they make along the way are worth it in the end. So, the war ended, school ended, and Draco and I went our separate ways. And maybe we never would have seen one another again, if not for wands.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Through a bunch of circumstances, I ended up with Draco’s wand during the war. Afterwards, I gave it back, but wands are funny, you know? They have strange loyalties, and Draco’s wand never worked properly for him afterwards. It would do basic spells, but as your Papa started doing more complicated magic, it was letting him down. I dunno. Garrick said that it was because Draco was a different person after the war. At any rate, that’s how he ended up in Ollivander’s one day. I was still early on in my apprenticeship, but Garrick had me help Draco find his new wand.”

“Was it easy?”

“Nope, not a bit. Draco is complicated, and so he needed a wand that was equally so. We tried so many, and then finally, he found the right one. Willow, unicorn hair core, quite swishy. Cass, when he picked up that wand. Well, you’ll find out soon enough, when your wand finds you, but it’s a really special feeling. Like you suddenly belong. Like you have all this stored up energy that’s finally found its conduit. Just this…click. It’s amazing. And he looked at me like I’d just made all of his dreams come true.” Harry smiled, remembering. “That was it. I was smitten. Seeing that look on his face was just like that click of feeling your magic.”

“So what, you just fell in love and then everything was forgotten?”

“No, not exactly. I had barely come to terms with the fact that I liked men, and so falling head over heels in love with my childhood nemesis was a shock. I panicked, ran into the back room, forced Garrick to go and take his Galleons.”

Cass laughed. “So then what did you do?”

“I did what I always did. I went to Hermione. She fed me tea, and told me to stop being such an idiot, and asked me to think harder about why I’d stalked him all over the Castle in our sixth year. She, it turned out, was not at all surprised that I was in love with Draco. She also told me that Draco had come to find her after the trials were over, and had apologized for being a bit of a prat back in school. So I went home, and I drank something stronger than tea, and I sent him an owl.”

“Good idea. Very smooth.”

“I thought so.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him that I had had an epiphany while he was in the shop, and could I buy him a drink to tell him about it.”

“Did that work?”

“Nope. His return owl very politely told me what to do with my epiphany.”

“So then what?”

“Well, as you know, I, on occasion have been known to have a bit of a stubborn streak.”

“Oh really?”

“Shut it, you. So I nearly worked my poor owl's feathers off. I sent him letter after letter. Sometimes, I’d tell him about my day, or what I ate for breakfast. Sometimes I told him little secrets about school, things that I knew would get a rise out of him. Eventually, I wore him down. He showed up at the shop again, and asked me what it would take for me to stop pestering him.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said that if he let me take him on three dates, and he still hated me at the end of it, I’d accept defeat and leave him in peace.”

“But he didn’t hate you? After the three dates?”

“No. He didn’t hate me.”

“Thanks for telling me, Dad.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry this stuff is hard for me to talk about. Are you sleepy yet?”

“Yeah. Will you stay with me until I drift off?”

“Of course.”

*

Harry fidgeted with the neckline of his stiff, scratchy robes. He absolutely hated the way that formal wizarding clothing felt. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d not grown up wearing it, but they always made him feel like an imposter. Cass stood next to him, wearing her own set of robes. She looked impossibly grown up, and Harry could already see a tiny hint of what she’d look like as a woman. It made him simultaneously want to clutch her close in pride, and weep in a corner that she wasn’t a baby anymore.

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I hate this.”

“I know, but seriously. You look like you have a rash.”

Harry looked across the room. Draco was impeccably turned out, as usual. His robes didn’t look uncomfortable. He was calmly speaking to Astoria and Pansy, and Harry allowed himself a good look. Draco laughed, and Harry felt his hands tremble. He was still so beautiful. _And_ , he reminded himself, _he’s going to sue you for custody_. He wished he could hate him. It would be so much easier if he could get mad at him, and call him a ferret, and make fun of his inferior seeking skills. But they weren’t in school anymore, and for the first time in a long time, Harry knew he had no position to claim a moral high ground. Harry had screwed up, and Draco was well within his rights. It sucked. It seemed that, all of the times in his life that Harry had proved himself fallible, weak, it had something to do with Draco. 

As he checked his watch, Harry allowed himself to hope that maybe he’d overestimated the interest that there would be in his return to England. Perhaps nobody cared. He prayed that nobody had shown up, and he could simply go back to living his life in obscurity. His hopes were dashed, when Greg entered the room, and said, “It’s really filling up in there.”

“Oh god.”

“Dad, you’re going to be fine. I thought you said that people liked you.”

“No, I said that people _knew_ me. It’s different. And the press has always had trouble deciding if I was a nutter seeking attention, or some type of Saviour character. No matter which side they land on, they still seem to care what I eat for breakfast.”

“That’s so dumb. You don’t even eat anything interesting.”

“And Greg, you’re with Cass, yeah?”

“No worries, Harry, I won’t take my eyes off of her.”

“Dad, that’s insane. You’re acting like someone will snatch me off the stage thingy.”

“Dais. It’s called a dais, and I know. I’m overreacting. But it’s weird being back here, and I had too many weird things happen in my life not to be on the lookout for more.”

Pansy crossed the room, looking purposeful. “It’s time, Scarhead.”

Cass gave her a narrow look, but Harry grinned, and grabbed his daughter’s hand. His smile faded a little as he watched Draco, Astoria and Scorpius link hands and exit the room ahead of them. He’d been surprised when Draco had told him that he planned to attend the press conference. They’d seen one another at St. Mungo’s, when Cass was undergoing her screening tests. Harry had been nervous, never a big fan of hospitals, and less so, when it was his daughter lying in a hospital robe, with several healers waving wands over her. He’d watched the proceedings intently, his eyes never straying far from Cass’ pale face. His distraction had been a minor blessing however, since his attention _hadn’t_ been on watching Draco. Probably the first time in his life that he and Draco had shared a room and Harry hadn’t been obsessed with what he was up to, he admitted to himself.

The Paediatric Healers were excellent, explaining what was about to happen at each step in the process, and by the time they were finished, they were laughing and joking with Cass as though they’d known her for ages. Astoria and Scorpius had stayed at home, and so it was Harry and Draco alone, watching the diagnostic scans as they lit in various colours over Cass’ body.

Harry hadn’t said anything to Draco, other than ‘hello’, and so he didn’t expect Draco to speak to him. “I’ve decided to attend your press conference,” he said tightly.

“Okay.”

“I don’t want you representing me.”

“That’s fine.” Harry struggled to keep his voice free of any inflection. He didn’t want Draco to infer anything, and get angry with him all over again.

“I intend to claim her as a Malfoy.” Harry thought that the words had an ominous ring, and he resolved again to make sure he spoke to a lawyer. If he were lucky, he’d be able to come see Cass on vacations, he thought, without much hope.

“Alright.” Harry was pleased with how rational he sounded. He also thought he deserved particular praise for not falling to the floor and begging Draco not to take his daughter away.

“Do you care at all?” Draco hadn’t been worrying about his own inflection at all. Although he was resolutely staring ahead, Harry didn’t have to look at Draco to know that he was sneering.

“Very much so.”

“You could fool me.”

And that had been it. They hadn’t said another word. Cass had finished her exam, and been pronounced fully fit to proceed with the bone marrow transplant. They agreed upon a day in a week’s time, and Harry and Draco promised that both children would be there at the appointed time. They, very politely, spoke through Cass until they could part ways at the floo, and there had been no further contact until Draco had shown up this morning. When they had entered the room where Harry and Cass were waiting, Draco had ignored Harry, but hugged Cass. Astoria and Scorpius had hugged both of them, and then they had withdrawn to their respective corners until now.

As Harry entered the conference room where the press had been gathered, he immediately wanted to turn and flee. He’d never seen so many reporters, not even when he’d been awarded his Order of Merlin. The moment they caught sight of them, the sound of shutters clicking was so overwhelming, Harry could barely think. He turned to Cass. “Alright?”

“Dad, this is insane.”

“Yeah, a bit. It will be okay.”

“You’ve got this.”

“Thanks kiddo.”

Harry sat at his appointed spot at the table, and watched as Pansy, clad today in a sharp pinstriped jacket and skirt, strode to the podium on impossibly high heels. “Thank you for coming,” she said crisply. “Further to his press release of last week, Mister Potter has returned to England on personal business, and, due to the requests for interview, has kindly agreed to answer some questions today. Before we open up the floor, however, I will warn you. Mister Potter reserves the right to refuse any question if he deems the tone to be inflammatory or the content too personal. You will be orderly and respectful. I don’t have to remind you that this nation owes Mister Potter a tremendous debt, and I trust that your coverage of his responses today will reflect the generosity he shows by entrusting you with details of his personal life.” She sent him over a toothy smile, and he knew that this was his cue.

With a tense little smile, he said, “Thank you for coming today. Ms. Parkinson will identify which member of the press has the floor at any given time, and I’ll look to her to help moderate the discussion, and ensure that the process remains orderly.”

A young witch stood. “Mister Potter, welcome back to England. Where have you been for the past ten years?”

“Once my apprenticeship with Garrick Ollivander was concluded, I moved to North America to begin my own wand-making practice.”

“And who is the young lady sitting next to you?”

“This is my daughter, Cass.”

“Where is Mrs. Potter?”

“I’m not married.”

“Where is Cass’ Mother?”

“She doesn’t have one.” This prompted a few murmurs, and Harry steeled himself for what would happen next.

“Could you explain?”

“I was the parent who carried and delivered Cass.” The murmurs gave way to gasps and exclamations of shock. Harry took a breath and kept his eyes fixed on Cass. He didn’t want to look at the reporters gathered, didn’t want to see the looks on their faces. He was pretty sure that Pansy wouldn't let them get away with calling him a freak to his face, but he didn’t want to see them thinking it either.

“Who is her other parent?”

“I am,” Draco said clearly. His face was impassive, confident. Something changed in Cass’ face when Draco publicly claimed her, and Harry realized that he didn’t know what she was thinking. Greg was standing directly behind her chair, one hand on her shoulder. Cass was watching Draco, and Harry thought he saw a little of her tension leave her.

“Would you care to explain why you haven’t claimed your daughter prior to this?”

“I wasn’t aware that I had a daughter until last week,” Draco said. His jaw clenched a little.

“Mister Potter, why did you keep Mister Malfoy from his daughter?”

Harry took a deep breath, clenched his hands together to stop them from shaking. “Mister Malfoy and I were close after the war, but our association ended prior to my learning that I was expecting. When that occurred, I wished to avoid, quite frankly, the media circus that was likely to result, and so I left the country without sharing my location with any of my friends or acquaintances, save the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Not to be insulting to your esteemed profession, but my adolescence, and the years following the war were made significantly more difficult by the fact that the press was quite intrusive. I believed that my child had the right to privacy.”

“Didn’t you think that you owed him the right to know about his daughter?”

Harry bit his lip for a moment, and then said, “Yes. I did owe him that, and I made the foolish decision to ignore his due. It’s indefensible, really, but I was a twenty year old man who had a fairly abnormal childhood. In hindsight, I realize that the choice I made was quite immature and unfair, but I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.”

“Mister Malfoy, what plans do you have now?”

Draco smiled over at Cass. “I very much look forward to getting to know my daughter and making up for lost time.”

“Harry, would you say that you moved away to protect your daughter?”

“Um, yes, I guess, from the press. Yeah.”

“Were there other elements that you wanted to protect her from?”

Harry, confused, frowned. “Like what?”

“Well, perhaps some of the less savoury elements of her other father’s past?”

“What? What kind of a question is that?” Harry glared at the reporter. He was young, barely out of Hogwarts by the look of him, and Harry felt uneasy about the way that he was smiling at Draco.

“Well, it only stands to reason that you’d be ashamed of who he was?”

“I beg your pardon?” Harry’s voice had gone very low. He was vaguely aware of Cass murmuring ‘uh-oh’, next to him.

“Of course it’s understandable, Mister Potter.” Harry felt a tug on his sleeve, and faintly registered the fact that he’d stood up. “There’s no denying your integrity and moral fibre. Is it true that you didn’t want your daughter to be raised by a Death Eater?”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Later, Harry would hotly deny that he’d flown over the table and launched himself at the reporter. He was absolutely certain that it hadn’t been him that was screaming that the reporter was a filthy piece of shit. But, the press conference had ended rather abruptly after that last, offensive question, and he still wasn’t sure why Greg had sat on him at one point. His knuckles were suspiciously bloodied for a man who hadn’t caused some sort of a ruckus, and it did seem strange that Pansy was so furious with him that she wasn’t speaking to him at all.

He looked up into Greg’s earnest, scowling face. “I’m not sure, Greg, but I have an awful feeling that it didn’t go well.”

“That’s accurate,” Greg agreed. 

Cass shifted from where she was snuggled on Harry’s other side. “Dad? Should we do something about your hand?”

“Yeah, I suppose. I seem to have banged it up.”

“That sometimes happens,” Greg said amiably, “when you punch someone bloody.”

“Is that what I did?” Harry knew he should be more upset about this. He also knew, that when the adrenaline wore off, he would be, so he decided to enjoy this part while it lasted.

“It was kind of impressive, though. You cleared the table in one jump,” Cass said comfortingly.

“I’m sorry that I did that in front of you. I think he said something that I took personally.”

“He called Papa a Death Eater.”

“Oh. Yes, that would do it,” Harry said.

“What’s a Death Eater?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry promised. “War stuff. So,” he said looking around, “I assume that Draco was livid?”

“He was embarrassed when the reporter called him that name. He didn’t make a face or anything, but his ears got pink. Then, when you attacked the reporter, he didn’t look mad, exactly, but he and Astoria and Scorpius left right away. Maybe he’s the sort of person who gets mad later.”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “He used to be the sort of person who got mad right away and later, but we’re older now.”

“So you going all 'red mist' on someone who makes you mad isn’t something you did when you were younger?” Greg was grinning now.

“Well, no, that’s my point,” Harry said. “I had a terrible temper when I was in school. But I outgrew it.”

“Dad,” Cass laughed. “Remember when my hockey coach called me a hopeless idiot because I was offside?”

“Well, you were a child! And the offside rule is _confusing_. He had no business coaching children. Anyone in my position would have reacted the same way.”

“You ran across the ice and tackled him. You got banned from the arena for life.”

“It was worth it.”

“And was starting a brawl at your press conference worth it?” Greg asked with a little smile.

“I’m certain that I'm going to regret it,” Harry said ruefully, “but I can’t believe that we’re over a decade from the stupid war, and people are still going after Draco. This place is so messed up. They’re still casting me as a hero, because I blundered my way through staying alive when I was a kid, and they’re still casting him as a villain because of choices he was forced to make when he was one. Both of us born into our roles, and because I was lucky enough to have been on the winning side, he’s vilified.”

“Potter,” Pansy’s voice was friendly, and something about her tone made Harry feel a touch unsettled. Pansy didn’t really _do_ friendly. 

His wariness was confirmed when Greg shrank away. “Cass, let’s see if we can get some pumpkin juice.” The two of them left, leaving Harry alone. _Traitors._

“Pansy. I think I fucked up.”

“Oh, do you?” She sat on the floor next to him, somehow managing to look graceful doing so.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m making your job harder on you.”

“What on earth were you thinking? I know you’re not a stupid man, Potter. You somehow managed to defeat a Dark Lord. You’ve raised a lovely child without her being eaten by a Hippogriff or something. What could possibly have possessed you to assault a member of the press in front of _every other_ member of the press in Great Britain? What could have been a page 3 public interest story is now going to be talked about for months. Months, Potter.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, scrubbing his hair back from his forehead. “This is going to prompt all sorts of speculation. About me, and whether I’m unhinged. About Draco, and what I’m covering up for him. About Cass and whether she’ll be the first female Dark Lord. But I just…lost my temper.”

“You’ve never been all that rational when it comes to Draco. Even in school he sent you around the bend on a weekly basis.”

“It’s just so unfair, Pansy. Draco deserves so much better, and I refuse to let it slide in front of our daughter. She shouldn’t have to listen to a complete stranger say such awful things about one of her parents. And Draco shouldn’t have to listen to it either. Oh Merlin. Is he furious? Does he want to murder me?”

“He’s not nearly as angry as I expected him to be. Said something about, ‘what would you expect’ and left as soon as the press had cleared out.”

“Listen, Pansy, whatever he needs, okay? If he and Astoria need security to keep the press away, hire it. I’ll cover the cost. If he needs to release a statement that says he publicly disavows me, that’s fine. I want to stay until after the bone marrow transplant, but I’ll clear out as soon as it’s over. If we play this right, it shouldn’t touch him too much. How’s the reporter?”

“Fine. Broken nose, black eye, both healed. You broke two different photographers’ equipment in the scuffle.”

“Replace it. Replace anything I damaged. Release a statement that condemns the reporter’s inflammatory comments, but apologizes for my behaviour. Will I have to serve jail time?”

“No. The Head Auror wants this to die down as much as we do. You’ve had to pay a fine for disturbing the peace, but he didn’t charge you with assault. If we can appease the reporter, you won’t have legal issues on top of all of this.” 

“What should I do about Draco?”

“Potter…”

“No, I’m not…I don’t mean to…Should I send him an owl? Apologize? Or just leave it alone?”

“Potter,” Pansy paused, looked at him closely. “Did you love him? I assumed it was some kind of one night stand, but it wasn’t, was it?”

Harry sat very still, and was silent for so long that Pansy thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, his voice so quiet that Pansy had to lean closer, he said, “Pansy, he was The One.” 

“And now?”

“He’ll always be The One, Pansy. But just because you love someone, it doesn’t obligate them to love you back.” 

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Thank you, Pansy. For helping me with all of this. I don’t give a fuck what happens to my reputation, but I appreciate you doing everything you can to protect Cass and Draco. What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Lay low for a week or so. Stay out of trouble. Don’t punch anyone.”

“Oh Merlin. I promised Cass that I’d take her places, show her things. I guess that will have a wait a bit.”

“Sorry, but yes, it’s probably better.”

“When I was a kid, I always assumed that there’d be a point where I’d just…grow up, you know? And I’d stop fucking up everything I touched. I’m pretty sure there’s no hope for me.”

“Up, Gryffindor,” Pansy ordered. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re a nightmare, and you react with your heart far more often than your head.”

“I know,” Harry said miserably.

Pansy’s face softened, and she pulled Harry into a hug. “And I’ll deny saying this, but you’ve always been something kind of special, and you shouldn’t go trying to change who you are.”

When Harry returned to his quarters, Greg and Cass were playing exploding snap, and a letter on crisp stationary awaited Harry. He couldn’t immediately place the handwriting, but it was free of any poisons or curses, so, heaving a sigh, he cracked open the seal.

It said:

_Dear Harry;_

_I hope that you’re recovering well from your unfortunate incident earlier. Could you please visit me at your earliest convenience at the Manor?_

_Regards,  
Narcissa._

Harry groaned. “What is it?” Cass asked.

“Your Grand-Mère wants me to go see her.”

“Ooo, can I come?”

“Cass, you don’t really want to see this. She’s going to scold me, and it’s going to make Uncle Professor’s lectures look like a birthday party. I’ve just humiliated myself in front of the entire world. Could you possibly spare me the further insult of witnessing this?”

“Fine,” Cass grumped. “But I want you to know that I’m bored.”

“I do know that you’re bored. At least you can explore Hogwarts without the cape, as long as you stay with Greg.”

“I can work with that.”

“Cass? I love you.”

“I love you too, you big monkey.”

Harry figured he could be forgiven for the face he made at his daughter as he spun away in the floo. He stood in the Malfoy entrance parlour, waiting for a house elf, and thought about the fact that he was going to have to tell Cass about Pansy’s instructions to ‘lay low’. She was going to kill him.

Harry was led to a comfortable library, where Narcissa was reading by the fire. She stood, and presented her cheek for kissing. “Hello, Harry.”

“Hello.” Harry didn’t know how to begin his apology, so he decided to just let her have a go at him first.

“Please, dear, sit. Would you like tea?”

“No thank you.”

“How’s your hand?”

“Oh, um…” Harry examined it. The bruising had gotten worse, but the bleeding had stopped. “Fine, thanks.”

“You haven’t seen a Healer.”

“No, I sort of forgot about it until now.”

“May I?” Harry extended his hand, and Narcissa’s healing spells felt like a cool bath. He flexed it experimentally. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.”

“So,” Narcissa said cooly, “it seems that you remain somewhat emotional in your deportment.”

“Unfortunately so. I have gotten better at managing my temper, on the whole, but…”

“You protect those you love.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“My son has worked very hard to restore the Malfoy name to its former level of respectability. It has been many years since the war, and he has conducted himself faultlessly since then. I have always been proud of him, but his ability to embrace humility and truly atone for both his and our wrongdoings has made me even more so.”

Harry hung his head. He couldn’t look into Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes. Perhaps she’d ask him to leave England now. He didn’t want to leave Cass to endure the Bone Marrow treatment alone. He didn’t think it was fair to not do everything to pave the way for her relationship with Draco. But, he owed Narcissa a life debt, and, if asked, he’d have to agree, wouldn’t he?

“However, there are still those who hold our actions against us. People who have lost much, and are unable to see Draco through the lens of his circumstances during the war. His Father and I committed a number of misdeeds, and history will judge us accordingly. But Draco deserves to be considered in his own light.”

Harry nodded, bracing himself for what was coming.

“Having you defend him so passionately means the world to me, Harry.” Harry looked up, confused. Narcissa was smiling at him. “The manner in which you chose to stand up for him may be a little unrefined, but the fact that you did is what will be remembered. The press will certainly criticize you, and, perhaps, Draco, by extension, but the people will know that their Chosen One fought for Draco’s honour. You have given him, and me, a tremendous gift.”

“I…I don’t understand. I made a scene. I embarrassed Draco. I set a terrible example for Cass. You can’t possibly be condoning my stupidity, especially when I've robbed you, and Draco of ten years with Cass.”

Narcissa suddenly looked incredibly sad, and Harry’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Don’t you think I understand a little bit about doing a very wrong thing because you feel you have no other options?” 

She took his hand, and continued, “You’re a parent, and it’s obvious that you love Cass beyond all reason. I’d like you to put yourself in my place for a moment. When Draco was sixteen, it became clear to Lucius that Draco would need to take the Dark Mark. I had no fondness for the Dark Lord’s war, and Lucius and I fought bitterly about it. I was raised to believe that a wife’s place was with her husband, and I believed it, so I stupidly stayed silent and watched my husband give our child to Voldemort. Once the war ended, and we were shamed, and Lucius was sent away, we were allowed to visit him at Azkaban, once a month. Each week, Lucius begged Draco to do his duty to the family. To marry, have an Heir, to devote himself to presenting as respectable an image as possible.”

Narcissa sighed, her expression becoming even more sad. “I had often wondered if Draco might be more interested in men. He, of course, never said a word to me, nor I to him. A few months after the Dark Lord was vanquished, I suddenly saw my child’s eyes alight with joy, and passion, and hope. I was thrilled, of course. He never explained why he was smiling again, why, on the suddenly infrequent occasions he was home, he’d spin me in a waltz and laugh like he had as a child. I only know that one weekend, we visited Lucius, but he asked for Draco to stay back, speak to him privately. And after that weekend, the smiles were gone, and he didn’t dance me through the dining room anymore.” She smiled sadly at him.

“If I thought it an odd coincidence that this happened at the same time that Harry Potter had suddenly disappeared without trace, I didn’t say. And before I knew what was happening, Draco had me speaking to the Greengrasses, and he and Astoria were betrothed. I have no idea what Lucius said to him that day, but the spark that had danced in his eyes was extinguished.”

Narcissa sighed. “I failed him, Harry. I stayed silent, and compliant, and my selfish clinging to old ways, my sense of duty to my husband prevented me from standing up for the child for whom I would have given my life.”

“Oh, Narcissa,” Harry sighed. “I’m so sorry that you found yourself in that position. I doubt it makes you feel any better, but I have no doubt that your intentions were good. Besides that, to regret not speaking up would be to regret Astoria and Scorpius, and I know how much you love them. Who knows whether Draco wanted anything different at the time, but I have no doubt he is happy with his family.” He pursed his lips ruefully. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Both of us live with the shame of knowing that we’ve wronged Draco in some way.”

“And both of us love him more than we love ourselves,” she said softly. Harry shrugged. It was true, but the words were too difficult to say. “Harry, dear, I’ve admired your strength of character since you were a little boy, and I’ve been very fond of you since you started coming over for tea after the war. I love Draco dearly, but he has never been unguarded, and so he doesn’t understand how to treat those who are. It makes him more careless than I’d like. You’ve already sacrificed yourself once for the good of others. Please don’t be in such a hurry to do so again.”

Harry liked Narcissa Malfoy very much, but he sometimes hated the knowing, subtle way she said things. It left him feeling simple-minded and inadequate. “I’ll try not to,” he replied, hoping that she wouldn’t press the issue. “I should get back and check on Cass, though. Thank you for the talk.”

As he stood and kissed her upturned cheek, she gripped his arm, stood, and then pulled him into a hug. Save Molly Weasley, Harry hadn’t really felt the touch of a mother. For a split second, he allowed himself to imagine that things had been different. That he and Draco had been together, properly together, and that this was his Mother-in-law. The sensation of loss was so great, that it was all Harry could do to endure the embrace. When she pulled away, he gave her a weak smile, and headed directly to the floo, unable to wait for a house elf to lead him. He was just reaching for the dish of floo powder, when the flames blazed green and Draco stepped out.

Harry instinctively stepped back, and Draco gaped at him for a moment. “What are you doing here,” he finally asked.

“Your mum asked me to come by,” Harry answered, still feeling panicky and detached from the throb of loss he’d felt, imagining how his life might have been. “Draco, I’m so sorry. I…Merlin, I can’t even count all the ways that I’ve fucked things up, but I really outdid myself at the press conference today. Cass and I will keep a low profile, stay shut up in Hogwarts until the transplant, and then I’ll be out of your hair for good.”

Draco stared at him for a moment longer, and Harry felt obliged to continue. “Unless you can’t bear for me to be around for the procedure. I just…Cass has always had me with her, and I thought it might make her less nervous, but I don’t mean to intrude. I…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry, just shut up a moment, will you?” Draco’s voice sounded exhausted. Harry noted absently that Draco had used his name, and, remembering the way he’d once said it, Harry felt his knees weaken a little. He swayed, but then caught himself, and straightened his spine. He cast a longing look at the floo, but remained where he was, waiting to be dismissed. Finally, Draco said, “Look, I know we need to talk, but I just can’t tonight. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” Harry agreed hurriedly. “You don’t owe me anything.” For some reason that caused Draco to give him a look somewhere between pained and exasperated. 

“How’s Cass?”

“She’s fine. About to be completely furious with me, when I tell her that I’ve just gotten us grounded. She was looking forward to seeing Diagon Alley.”

“Do…Would she be able to stay with me for a couple of days? I’d be happy to take her around. If you think she’d be willing. And if you are.”

Harry thought for a moment. He’d never spent a night away from Cass before, but it would be good for her to spend time with Draco. He stifled the disappointment of missing out on seeing her experience the places of his childhood, and managed a nearly-genuine smile. “Yeah, of course, Draco. I’ll speak to her tonight, and I can have Greg bring her over in the morning. If anything comes up, I’ll owl you.”

“Thanks,” Draco said.

“Yeah, sure. Goodnight, Draco.”

He was just about to step through the floo when Draco said, “Potter…”, but Harry couldn’t bear hearing whatever came next, so he simply continued through the floo and spun off within the flames.

Cass was reading when he entered their chambers. She looked up from her book, her curls a mess and her eyes looking sleepy. “What did Grand-Mère want?”

“I honestly have no idea. She didn’t shout at me, and considering the rest of today, we’ll consider that a victory.”

“Good. Too many people shout at you. Greg went to his room, but he told me to let you know that he’d ‘warded our rooms like he meant it’ and that the house elves would let him know if I left them.”

“Fair enough. I saw your Papa, at the Manor.”

“Did he yell at you?”

“He didn’t, actually. He wondered if you wanted to spend a couple of days with him.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It’s your choice, of course, but I had to promise Pansy that I’d hide out in the Castle for the next few days. If you were with Papa, you could go to Diagon Alley, spend some time with Scorpius. Maybe he’d take you flying.”

“I wanted to do those things with you.”

“Well, we can, if you want to wait, but I imagine you’re getting tired of Hogwarts.”

“I could never be tired of Hogwarts. It’s brilliant.” She said the last sentence in her mocking impression of Harry’s accent, and he smiled.

“It is brilliant. Up to you, little duck.”

“I’ll think about it. Will you tell me the rest of the story?”

Harry settled onto the sofa, with Cass snuggled up against him. He pulled a blanket over them both, and smoothed her wild hair down as he picked up where he’d left off previously.

After the initial three dates, Harry had detected an initial softening of Draco’s attitude. It wasn’t easy and the changes were subtle. Draco was still prickly and difficult, prone to snide comments and offended silences. Harry was…smitten. He liked how Draco was all sharp edges and angles, how it took effort to push past the boundaries that Draco had built up to prevent being hurt. He loved how, every once in a while, he’d catch Draco looking at him with a little wrinkle in his brow, as though Draco were trying to figure out what the catch was. 

The first day Harry knew for certain that he was in love with Draco hadn’t started out well at all. Harry had left his muddy trainers in Draco’s front hall, and Draco had responded predictably. He’d called Harry a classless boor, had complained about the drying mud had flaked all over his tiles. He’d ranted about how Harry had always been this way, thoughtlessly blundering through his life, with no concern about how his actions impacted other people.

Harry had responded defensively, and protested that a simple mistake wasn’t worth getting upset over. That the reason he’d gotten muddy shoes in the first place was because he’d gone to Hogsmeade to get Draco the sugar quills he liked so much, and it wasn’t Harry’s fault that the streets of Hogsmeade were muddy. That if Draco thought he was so useless and worthless, he’d leave and protect Draco’s precious floors from being infected by Harry’s slovenliness. 

Harry had been lacing up the offending trainers, working hard to keep angry tears from springing to his eyes when Draco had been suddenly standing next to him. “Harry,” he’d said. “Don’t. Don’t go. I’m…I didn’t mean to imply-”

“Draco, stop. It’s fine,” Harry said wearily. “I know that you think I’m uncultured, and a bit of an idiot. You’re right, as it happens. I don’t know why I thought that things could be different. It was worth a shot, though, hey?” 

As Harry stood to leave, Draco had grabbed his arm. “Wait. Do you really think that? Is that how you think I see you?”

“Oh, come on, Draco, it’s obvious that’s how you see me. You’ve seen me that way since we met on the train on the way to Hogwarts. Too uncultured to pick the right friends, too stupid to do anything other than succeed accidentally. All brawn, no brain, right? It’s stupid, but it’s one of the reasons I like you.”

“What?” Draco had looked completely gobsmacked.

“Everybody else sees something I’m not. The Chosen One, the paragon of…I dunno, righteousness or something. You always saw me exactly how I am. I…I have to go now.” Harry had been dangerously close to tears, and he was desperate to leave before they fell.

“Merlin, you don’t even realize,” Draco had said, aghast.

“Please let go of me. I have to go.”

“No, Harry. Harry. Gods, you…Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see someone who has been forced into one traumatic situation after another, who still manages to laugh and see the good in people. I see someone who has had nearly everyone he’s loved taken from him, but who loves those he still has with an open heart. I see someone who I’ve been fascinated with for my whole life, but who never stops surprising me.”

“Don’t…” Harry’s voice had come out weakly.

Draco had stroked his cheek, just once and said, “I don’t think you’re stupid, and I find it really freeing that you don’t insist on obeying every single Pureblooded social convention. I pick at you because I’m a stuffy spoiled control freak and sometimes I’m terrified that you’ll realize that I’m not good enough for you.” And, just like that, Harry had been in love.

He’d told Hermione and Ron everything of course, and their reaction was better than he'd feared. Ron had groused a lot, and the first time they’d all had dinner together had been tense, but all three of them had looked at Harry’s hopeful, happy face, and resolved to try. And the ice had broken, and they’d become friendly…ish.

Draco, on the other hand, had been far more cautious about any public attention. At first, Harry had been easily contented by Draco’s protests of, “Don’t you see, I want something that nobody knows about, something that’s just for me.” 

Over time though, the secrecy had begun to bother Harry. “I just wanted to have a pint in the Leaky. Hell, even the Hog's Head. I know you value your privacy, Draco, but I’m starting to think that you’re ashamed of me.”

Draco’s eyes had filled with tears. “No, Harry. No, no. How could you think that? It’s just that you know what people will say. The press is going to start screaming that I have you under a mind-control curse. It will be a re-hashing of everything wrong I’ve done in my life.” In what was, in hindsight, a somewhat placatory gesture, Draco had invited Harry to have tea at his Mother’s each Saturday. He’d introduced Harry as ‘his friend’, and, unlike when they were in private, had kept his hands firmly to himself, but Harry had, once he’d gotten over his discomfort around Narcissa, been thrilled by the invitation into Draco’s world.

He’d similarly extended an invitation to Draco to join Sunday night dinner at the Burrow, but Draco had firmly refused. “But Draco,” Harry had protested, “you know they won’t say anything. They’re my family. They’ll love you.”

“No,” Draco had said. “Harry, I’m responsible for Bill’s injuries. I was on the same side that took Fred from them. You must know that I won’t be welcomed.” Harry had been disappointed, but hoped it would change.

It hadn’t. Draco was everything Harry had ever wanted, so long as they were in the privacy of their home. Because Grimmauld Place _had_ been their home. Draco hadn’t officially moved from the Manor, but he had spent nearly every night, every weekend with Harry. His clothes had hung in Harry’s closet, and Draco had been the most loving, devoted boyfriend Harry could have asked for. He was supportive and generous, and they laughed and teased and drank gin on the rooftop patio on the top floor. It was a good life, and Harry loved it, loved Draco.

The first time that Harry had nearly slipped and confessed his love to Draco had been an ordinary day. It was swelteringly hot and the cooling charms hadn’t been dispelling the humid air that Harry had felt like he was swimming through. Harry had come home from Ollivander’s and thrown his robes in the corner before slumping exhaustedly onto the sofa wearing only his pants. And then Draco had been beside him, throwing a cooling charm right at him, and presenting him with a container of Fortesque’s newest flavour. It had been a tiny, thoughtful little gesture, and Harry had looked at him for a long moment. The words nearly came out, but years of rejection won over, and so Harry merely sighed and said, “I really, really like you, Draco Malfoy.” Draco had looked startled for a moment, and then cocked his head, and said, “I find you not intolerable, Harry Potter.”

It was July, almost two years after they’d started dating, when Harry had begun feeling strange. Not ill, exactly, just…weak. His magic had begun acting funny, affecting the way that the wand wood reacted to him. And he was exhausted, all the time. He had dismissed it as a reaction to the heatwave that had struck, at first. Garrick had looked concerned, told him that he should have it checked. Once Draco and Hermione had also joined the chorus of persistent concern, Harry had made an appointment with Madame Pomphrey, who had continued treating Harry after the war.

Then, the day before he was scheduled to go see his Healer, Draco had gone with his Mother to visit Lucius in Azkaban. Harry had kissed Draco soundly, and set about making his favourite dinner for when he returned. Strangely, though, Draco hadn’t returned that night. Instead, an owl had arrived at dinnertime, with a note from Draco saying that he wasn’t feeling well, and he’d stay at the Manor. Harry had sent the owl back with a container of chicken soup, and spent the night with a rumbling in his belly that suggested he was coming down with whatever Draco had.

Draco still hadn’t returned by Tuesday, and Harry had gone to his Healer’s appointment without speaking to him. Three hours later, shocked, clutching a carrier bag full of potions, Harry had placed a hand on his still-flat stomach, his mind reeling with the new information he’d just absorbed.

And then he had sent an owl to Draco that said:

_Draco,  
I hope you’re feeling better. I’ve missed you so much. Are you feeling up to coming over? I wanted to tell you something._

_Your,  
Harry_

He hadn’t gotten a response, which was mildly strange, but, as distracted as he was with the idea that he was having a baby, (a baby!), he’d barely registered it, until, hours later, Draco had stumbled through the floo. Harry had leapt to his feet. “Draco! Oh Merlin, are you okay? You’re so pale. Do you need something? Tea? Are you warm enough?”

“‘M fine,” Draco had whispered. He sat on the couch, carefully, as though he might break, and Harry had felt another stab of concern that Draco was truly ill. “Need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, of course. I have something to tell you too.”

“Need to go first.” Draco had whispered.

“Okay. Do you want tea?”

“No, Harry.” Something in the tone of Draco’s voice had frightened Harry, and he had stopped fussing and looked up at him. Tears were shining in his grey eyes, and he said, “We have to end this.”

“End what?”

“I can’t see you anymore, Harry.”

“What?” Harry suddenly felt unsteady, and he’d perched on the edge of the sofa. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, Harry, it was nothing you did, I swear. You…you’re wonderful.”

“But then why…”

“We didn’t make any promises to one another.”

“No, that’s true, we didn’t. I just thought that we were happy together. I was happy.”

“We were never going to last, though.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. I didn’t feel that way.” Harry could feel his dreams slipping through his fingers. “I don’t suppose I could say anything to change your mind?”

“No,” Draco said kindly. And that had nearly broken Harry. The fact that Draco was being kind to him while he broke his heart. “We’ve had a lovely time together, Harry, but that’s all it was. It was never going to be more, just a lovely time, with someone I’m fond of. I’m sorry if you thought differently. I’d love to think that we could be friends.”

And that had been it. There was to be no discussion. There was nothing Harry could fix. It had just been a lovely time with someone Draco had been fond of.

“So when are you going?”

“Now, I think. I’ll just gather my things. I won’t be long.”

“I can’t be here while you do that. I have to go.”

“Harry, I’m so sorry. Truly.”

“You can’t help it if you don’t feel the same way.” Harry was barely clinging to his composure. “I have to go,” he repeated, and, before Draco could answer, he had apparated away.

It was only later, when he was standing by the lake at Hogwarts that Harry realized. He hadn’t even told Draco about the baby. For a moment, he had been suffused with hope. Maybe if he told Draco, it would change everything. He would change his mind, realize that he and Harry _did_ have a future. 

As he thought about it, though, the hope quickly diffused. He didn’t want Draco to stay with him out of obligation. Harry had spent so long feeling like he was on the outside looking in. With the Dursley’s, desperate for them to act like he was anything other than a burden. With his teachers at Hogwarts, longing for them to see him as something more than a weapon. Even with the Weasleys, who had treated him more like a member of the family than anyone before had done, Harry still felt that he didn’t quite belong, like he was an interloper.

No, he had realized. Harry was on his own, and he’d deal with this himself. He couldn’t imagine having Draco look at him with pity, having moved on with his own life, and still tied to Harry by the burden of a child, a child born out of wedlock, to a man that Draco hadn't cared about. It was unimaginable that this tiny little speck of a person be anything less than treasured. If Harry had meant nothing to Draco, he might not even want to know Harry’s child. Or worse, with his knowledge of Pureblood customs and Wizarding laws, could he take the baby away?

Harry had sat under the tree next to the lake, the place where he, Ron and Hermione had studied, and gossiped and laughed. He wanted them now, but if he told Hermione, she would insist that he tell Draco. Maybe she’d insist that he give him the baby outright. Hermione had always seemed to know what was best, and she wasn’t shy on giving him advice, something he normally appreciated. But Harry knew that he wanted this baby, and all of his insecurities had screamed at him that Hermione would tell him that he wasn’t capable of being her father.

It had been lonely, sitting under his tree, realizing that he had nobody to confide in, nobody to help him. Looking back now, Harry realized that his friends and the Weasleys would have helped him, wouldn’t have judged him, but with his confidence lower than it had ever been, and his freshly broken heart thudding in his chest, it had seemed the bleakest moment of his life.

A voice had startled him from his thoughts. “Mister Potter.”

“Headmaster McGonagall,” Harry had gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, it is my school. Do you really think, young man, that after the amount of times you nearly met your demise on school grounds that I wouldn’t have updated the wards to notify me of a late night visitor?”

“I’m sorry. I’m trespassing, I know I shouldn’t be here.”

“By the look on your face, I think that this is exactly where you’re meant to be. Will you come in and have some tea, lad?”

“It’s late, and I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Harry Potter. You are welcome at this school, day or night, for as long as I live. Hogwarts is your home. Now come and tell me what’s the matter.”

So he had. In Minerva’s office, he’d told her everything, and when he had finished, she said, “Harry, what would you like to do?”

“I don’t know,” he’d said, a little frantically. “I want to hide somewhere and have this baby, and keep it safe. The media...and Draco...I just wish I could be safe.”

“Then let’s arrange it so that you can.”

Minerva had saved his sanity. She’d made arrangements, via an ex-student, to get Harry’s approval to emigrate to Canada. The Canadian Ministry had heard of Harry Potter, and they’d been happy to fast-track the process. She’d contacted Garrick, and arranged for him to complete his apprenticeship via floo. Poppy agreed to portkey to him for his medical appointments. She’d even found him a house to live. By the next week, he was standing in her office, his belongings packed, and staring at his former Head of House rather forlornly. “Oh, come here, child,” she said gently, and gathered him into her arms.

“Professor, I’m kind of scared,” he had admitted, ashamed to be representing his House so poorly.

“You’re going to do brilliantly, Harry. Go, enjoy your baby, and I’ll come over and knit booties before the birth.”

“Thank you for everything, truly.”

“Thank me by being as happy as you possibly can,” she had said.

“And I did,” Harry finished, placing a kiss on Cass’ forehead. “I had a beautiful baby, and we made a life together, and I was so lucky.”

“Did you miss him?”

“Yes. Of course I did. But looking back, I understand. We were still just kids, and, Merlin, the War had broken us. Draco had so much pressure to redeem his family. And I was just so desperate to find someone who loved me for who I was. We both got what we wanted, in the end, even if I hurt Draco by hiding you away.”

“Do you think he would have stayed with you? If things had been different, and he hadn’t needed to marry a lady?”

“No, probably not. I think that Draco was sort of like an asteroid. When you’re sitting there, looking up at the night sky, and suddenly you see this brilliant shooting star, it’s wonderful, you know? And you feel so lucky to have seen it, like it’s a special gift from the heavens, just for you. And it burns out quickly, of course, and it’s gone, but you don’t feel sad that it’s over, you focus on how amazing it was while you saw it.”

“What do you think that Papa saw in you?”

“I’ve no idea, little duck. Maybe one day he’ll tell you. Have you decided about spending a couple of days with your Papa and your family?”

“Don’t say that. You’re my family.”

“I’m your family, yes. But that’s what they are as well. I think it’s nice that you have so many people to love you. I was quite selfish, keeping you to myself like that.”

“I guess I’ll go see him. Will you miss me too much?”

“I’ll miss you, but not too much. I want you to get to know your Papa. You have a lot of his mannerisms, you know. You need some time to get to know him.”

“You don’t feel jealous?”

“No, little duck. I’m happy for you.”

“And if you miss me, or get lonely or sad, you’ll come get me?”

“Yes, but only if you do the same.”

“Deal.”


	5. Chapter 5

Draco was coaxing Scorpius to eat just one more bite when he heard the floo, followed by Cass’ excited voice say, “Maybe we can go and see the Weasley shop?”

“Maybe. You’ll have to ask your Papa. I know you’ll have a good time, whatever he has planned.”

Draco stood, placed his napkin on the table, and made his way into the family room, where Harry was tidying the soot from his daughter’s robes.

“Hello,” Cass said, a little shyly.

“Good morning, Cass. Potter.” 

Draco knew his voice sounded overly formal, and inwardly cringed, but Cass merely cocked her head at him, and then turned her attention to her Dad. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay?”

“We’ve talked about this, Cassiopeia. I will be fine, truly. Please, please, try to stop worrying about me.”

“If I don’t, who else will?”

“Minerva, and Uncle Professor. They’ve got this. You focus on having a good time and enjoying your family, okay?”

Draco watched the exchange suspiciously. He couldn’t figure out what Potter was up to. He sounded so sincere, as though he didn’t bear Draco any ill will at all. Maybe he was telling Cass terrible things about Draco in private. The child certainly looked at him critically enough. And why was she so concerned with looking after him? What was wrong with Harry, that his child needed to take care of him? It was irrational, Draco knew, but he couldn’t help feeling jealous of their closeness. Harry and Cass didn’t seem to need anyone else.

Harry handed Draco Cass’ overnight bag. “I wasn’t sure what your plans were, so I’ve packed a lot. Formal robes, Muggle clothes, and everything in between.”

It galled him to have to ask, but, with a little moue of distaste, he said, “I don’t know much about Cass’ routines, her likes and dislikes. Anything I should be aware of?”

Harry smiled. “Cass will tell you all about what she likes and dislikes, but generally, she’s really easy going. No allergies, or medical conditions to be aware of. She’s a very adventurous eater.” His smile wavered just a little. “This is the first time we’ve actually been apart for more than a school day, so we don’t know whether she’ll like spending the night in a new place or not. But I think she’ll do great, and if she feels anxious, she knows how to get in touch.”

“Any rules I should be aware of?”

Harry tilted his head, obviously perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

“Honestly, Potter,” Draco was impatient. “I’m merely asking whether you want me to observe any specific rules. Bedtime, behaviour, that sort of thing.”

“Oh. No, no. Draco, you’re her father. I’m not going to tell you how to parent her. I know that the two of you will figure it out.”

_Of course. Why would he try to make it any easier for Draco? Typical_ , he thought. “Well, if I were sending Scorpius to stay with you, I’d have guidelines I’d want you to observe.”

“Oh, I understand. Well, Cass is really independent, and she’s excellent at self-regulation. She makes her own decisions when it comes to sleep, and she does all of her…you know…self-care stuff. I always pop in at night to say goodnight, but-” 

“Salazar, Potter, does she even have a parent?” The words escaped Draco’s mouth before he could stop them. He was completely unnerved by this new, mature Potter, who didn’t rise to his bait, who seemed to care so little about Draco that he practically ignored him. But, he reasoned, Potter didn’t care about Draco, obviously, since he was able to walk away and start a new life, without a backward glance.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?”

_Well, in for a sickle_ , Draco decided. “I just wonder whether anyone has been parenting her? You know, she’s so independent, and takes care of herself and all. Just what have you been doing all this time, if not raising our daughter?”

Harry looked as though he’d been slapped. Hard. Draco felt a tingle of unease. Perhaps he’d stepped out of line, just slightly. He didn’t have time to explore this thought, because his daughter descended on him like an avenging angel. “What’s your problem?”

“Cass,” Harry said warningly.

“No, Dad,” Cass spat, whipping around to face Draco. “You don’t get to criticize how I’ve been raised. You don’t even know me! You don’t know what I need. You don’t know that my dad is raising me to be a strong woman who doesn’t need to be told what to do. You don’t know that he is always there, anytime I need support.”

“Cass, stop.” Harry’s voice was firm. Cass looked at him pleadingly. 

“Dad, he needs to understand!”

“No.” Harry placed a hand on her arm. “He doesn’t. I have a lot to answer for, in terms of not telling him about you sooner. But I don’t need to justify the way that I’ve parented you. Not to Draco, not to anyone. Look at you, Cass! You’re exceptional. You’ve the best of Draco and I both, and I won’t argue about this. Your Papa might choose to do things differently when you're with him. That’s his right, as your parent. But I won’t, for a single second, apologize for what a miracle that you are.”

He wrapped Cass into a tight hug, and whispered something into her ear. She looked at him, bit her lip, and nodded, and then he kissed her forehead. Again, Draco felt completely excluded, and a bit ashamed that he’d handled this situation all wrong. Again. “Have a nice couple of days,” Harry said. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

As he disappeared into the floo, Cass turned to look at Draco. For a moment, Draco saw a glimpse of his own Mother in Cass’ expression as she levelled an icy glare at him. “That was mean.”

Draco sighed. Stupid bloody Potter. He knew that Cass was loyal to the only father she knew, but why didn’t anyone care that Draco was the wronged party? “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“Yeah? Why do you keep doing the same stupid thing, then?”

Draco still didn’t know what to make of this small, wise, child that seemed more like an adult than anything. “I don’t understand.”

“Listen, Dad told me about how stuff is different with cultured families like yours. I know you don’t really say what you’re feeling, and you use politeness and stuff to get your point across. That’s not how I want to be, so I’m going to make it really clear: You’re crazy if you think that the way to make me like you is to be mean to my Dad.”

Draco stared at her. She gave him an angry little smile, and said, “I know you’re mad at him. We _all_ know that you're mad at him. I get why you're upset. But you don’t get to use me as some sort of stick to hit him with. _Everybody_ is trying except for you. Your wife, your mum, all of Dad’s friends, even Scorpius is trying to make me feel welcome. You need to choose between me and your temper tantrum, ‘cause you can’t have both. Now, where’s my brother?”

Draco wordlessly pointed in the direction of the dining room, and a moment later, heard Scorpius exclaim delightedly, and Cass’ answering greeting. He stood exactly where she’d left him, considering her words. 

“I think you’ve met your match,” said a voice behind him, causing him to jump.

Astoria was grinning broadly. “How much of that did you hear?” Draco asked.

“Just the part about you using her as a stick…nice imagery, by the way, and the part about choosing between your temper tantrum and your daughter. Every time I think that she can’t delight me any more, she gets cross with you again, and proves me wrong.”

“I’m awfully glad that you’re enjoying this.”

“She's got a point, though,” Astoria said cheerfully. “It’s good for you, having another woman to call you on your crap.”

“As if I didn’t already have enough.”

“You can never have enough tough girls who won’t accept your nonsense. It makes you a better Draco.”

“Maybe I’m not the one that needs to change. I didn't do anything wrong!"

"True," she said easily. "But I don't think that Cass did anything wrong either."

After breakfast, Cass insisted on taking her own plate to the kitchen, much to the disapproval of the house elves, who wailed and trailed after her, wringing their hands. Draco vividly remembered a similar scene at the Manor, when Harry had horrified his mother’s elves just as much. He told her so, and Cass grinned. “Dad said that the worst thing that happened after the war was that he inherited a House Elf, and he had to figure out how to get along with him.”

“What did he do with Kreacher when he moved to Canada, do you know?”

“Dad sent him to Hogwarts. He died, a few years ago. It was the first time that Dad seriously considered coming back, but Uncle Professor told him to take his bleeding heart sentiments out to the shop and stop moping around.”

“Who’s Uncle Professor?”

“You knew him,” Cass answered. “Professor Snape. He lives in our portrait, mostly. He teaches me, and he’s Dad’s best friend.”

For the umpteenth time in a week, Draco felt like the world was tilting on its axis. “Are you telling me,” he said slowly, “that Professor Snape voluntarily inhabits a portrait in Canada, in the home of Harry Potter?”

“Yeah. He’s not nearly as grumpy as he seems, you know.”

“I don’t understand how that could have happened. They were…not close during school.”

Cass shrugged. “After Dad moved to Canada, but before I was born, the portrait was delivered one day. Uncle Professor insisted on having himself shipped to be with us. He told Auntie Min that he wasn’t about to see another Potter child left to the mercies of the world.”

“That’s utterly shocking,” he said.

“What? That someone would choose my Dad?” Her voice was challenging, and Draco realized he needed to tread carefully.

“Their animosity at school was the stuff of legends.”

“Dad grows on you.”

After learning that even Severus was fond of Potter, Draco had resolved to stop speaking ill of him, at least in front of his daughter. It put her on the defensive, and it made Draco feel things he didn’t wish to feel. He was about to suggest that he show Cass the Library, when an almighty howling emerged from the bedrooms upstairs.

Draco sighed. “I should go sort him out.”

“Can’t his mum?”

“She can, but it'll go faster if it’s me.”

“Can I come?” 

Draco was a little surprised, but nodded, and led Cass up the stairs to Scorpius’ large, bright bedroom. Scorpius was full-on tantruming, and a lack of intervention now would result in a sulky, obstinate child for the rest of the day. “What’s this, then?” He kept his voice light and curious.

Astoria was losing patience rapidly. “Scorpius seems to object to wearing clothes.”

“Am not,” Scorpius wept. Enormous tears were rolling down his plump little cheeks, and Draco knelt beside him.

“Scorpius, it’s time to get dressed now,” Draco said firmly. “Mama already told you that.”

“Can’t!”

“Scorpius Amicus, if you don’t get dressed right this minute, you won’t be going to Diagon Alley with us,” Draco said. He could feel his cheeks heating as his patience eroded.

“No, no!” Scorpius let out an ear-splitting shriek that had Astoria and Draco both cringing.

“You’re willing to give up on a fun time with your sister, just to get your own way?”

“You don’t listen,” Scorpius wailed.

Draco felt a hand on his arm. It was Cass. “I’m going to sit next to Scorpius, okay Papa?” Her voice was calm, but loud enough that Scorpius could hear him over his sobs.

“Of course,” Draco answered.

“I’m not going to touch you, Scorpius, but I’m going to stay right here next to you as long as you need me to. If you feel like telling me what you need, you can, but if you just need to be sad, that’s okay too.” Cass crossed her legs and sat very near to Scorpius, not touching him, but within his line of vision. Draco watched, curious.

“Sometimes I feel all out of sorts,” Cass continued blithely, seemingly unconcerned that Scorpius was still crying. “Sometimes I don’t even know what I need. It’s okay though. The feelings always go away, and then I can work to solve the problem. One time, when I was little, I had a big fit about putting on my sweatshirt, and it made my Dad so confused. He couldn’t understand why I wasn’t listening to him. But when I calmed down and finally felt like I could talk to him, I was able to tell him that the sweatshirt had a scratchy tag, and we cut it out, and fixed the problem.”

During her explanation, Scorpius’ tears had abated some, and he was starting to listen to his sister’s story. She smiled down at him, and he took her hand. He sat up and whispered something in her ear. Cass nodded, and said, “I can understand that. It’s not me that you need to ask, though. Are you ready to tell your mum what’s wrong?” 

He considered this, and then nodded, and said, “Mama, I just don’t feel green today. Today is a blue day.”

“You want to wear blue robes? That’s why you were upset?”

Scorpius nodded. “I wanted to tell you, but you said, ‘no more arguments, young man.’”

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand at first. Thank you for telling me.”

When Scorpius was dressed in his (blue) robes, Cass gave him a hug. “That was good, Score.”

He beamed. “Nobody calls me Score. I like it.” 

He took Cass’ hand again, and as he led her out of the room, she turned to Draco, and said, “That's how my Dad parents me.” 

“I can’t believe that Scorpius was more invested in having his tantrum than in enjoying time with Cass,” Astoria said, giving him a pointed look.

“Shut it,” Draco said sulkily, following her downstairs. Of course he could see Cass’ point. He knew that he was being childish about the situation, too busy being angry at Harry and feeling sorry for himself to take advantage of time with his daughter while she was here. And he knew that Harry was a good Father. The evidence of it was obvious. 

Draco resolutely did not think about what would happen when Scorpius’ bone marrow transplant had been completed, and Harry and Cass returned to Canada. Ignoring the hollow feeling in his stomach, Draco followed his family and resolved to make today count.

Watching Cass’ face as she spotted Diagon Alley for the first time was one of the most glorious experiences of Draco’s life. She was quiet as they approached the Leaky Cauldron, her big, bright eyes darting around to take everything in. As Draco raised his wand to the bricks and the archway opened, her face alit with wonder. She followed Astoria and Scorpius in a daze looking as though she wanted to see everything all at once. Draco remembered seeing a small boy in a robes shop, his face wearing the same expression. 

They stopped at the broom shop first. Draco needed a new broom servicing kit, and as he picked it out, he noticed Scorpius looking longingly at the training brooms. Draco glanced at Astoria, and she winked at him. “I was thinking,” Draco said conversationally, drawing up next to his small son, “once you get your transplant, there’s no reason not to learn how to fly.”

“Really, Papa?” The grey eyes, so like Draco’s own, looked up at him hopefully.

“Yes, really. Do you suppose we should get your your broom today, so that you have something to look forward to?”

“Yes, Papa, thank you! Mama, I’m getting a broom of my own!” Scorpius called out excitedly. Cass was grinning at her brother, clearly excited for him.

“And what about you?” Draco asked Cass. “Do you have a broom already?”

Cass nodded. “Yes, Dad is kind of into brooms. He got us both the same ones that the Canadian National team uses. They’re wicked fast.”

“What position do you play?”

Her grin was only the tiniest bit cocky. “Seeker, of course. What else could I be?”

“Are you any good?”

“I beat my Dad to the snitch about once every dozen games.”

“You’ve done better than I have,” Draco confided. “I never managed to beat him, not in all the years we went to school.”

“He’s still crazy fast, but I’ve learned that if I do something risky, he gets all nervous and protective of me, and he loses his focus.”

“You might be a Slytherin yet,” Draco mused.

“Nah, Ravenclaw,” Cass said.

“Yes, I could see that,” Draco agreed. “As long as you’re not Hufflepuff.” 

At the same time he said that, Cass was saying, “Just as long as I don’t sort Hufflepuff.” They laughed, and Draco tentatively put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him with one of Harry’s guileless, happy smiles, and Draco’s heart clenched.

“Where do you want to go next?” Draco asked, once Scorpius’ broom had been wrapped up and they were again in the Alley. Scorpius was dragging his mother in the direction of the Magical Menagerie, and Draco knew that they’d be there until his son’s fatigue ended the outing.

“Can we go to Ollivander’s?”

“Of course. Mister Ollivander died, but someone else took it over, kept the name.”

Cass gave him a funny look that Draco, in his distraction over all of his conflicting emotions, couldn’t begin to interpret. “Yeah, I know. I’d like to see,” she said.

The shop was empty when they entered, a little gong sounding their arrival. “One moment,” a melodious voice, heavily accented in French, called from the back room.

A tiny woman appeared in the doorway, her eyes bright and eager. She resembled a little sparrow. “Hello.”

“Good morning,” Draco said. “My daughter is visiting from Canada, and she was most excited to visit your shop.”

“Then it’s a pleasure to welcome you,” she replied, her face transforming into a sunny smile. “I am Madame Lefebvre.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Cass said happily. “My Dad, well, my other Dad, has told me so much about your shop, and I always wanted to see it. Did you know Mister Ollivander?”

“Yes, indeed. My Apprentice Master in France, unfortunately, died suddenly, and Garrick was kind enough to allow me to complete my studies with him. I worked here in the shop until he also passed on, and then I took it on.”

“I’m glad you didn’t change the name,” Draco said. “Ollivander’s is a bit of a fixture here.”

“Yes, I have great respect for the tradition the Ollivander family created. Not only have they sold some of the finest wands, they have also trained many gifted wandsmasters.”

“It’s just as I imagined it,” Cass said. “Could I see the workshop?”

“Bien sur,” Madame Lefebvre said. “Come, little one.” She led them into the back room, and Draco looked around in interest. The space was meticulously organized, but full to overcrowding. A small pile of wand blanks sat on the table. Cass looked at them curiously.

“What wood is this one?” She pointed to a smooth length of wood.

“That’s yew,” Madame replied. “Good wand for healers, necromancers. A resilient wood, a wand for rebirth, change. This wood is used to light the Beltane fire. The holder of this wand will shed the world of old pain, and welcome a new dawn.”

“Wicked,” Cass breathed. “May I touch it?”

“Of course,” Madame said with a smile. “It does not yet have a core. You are know a little something about wandmaking, though, to have asked.”

“I find it interesting,” Cass said. She picked up the length, one finger gently tracing its length. Her forehead wrinkled, and she blinked suddenly.

Madame viewed her curiously. “This wand blank. It resonates with you?”

“I think so,” Cass said thoughtfully. “I feel something, but I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Do you have a few moments? I would dearly love to try an experiment.” 

Cass looked at Draco and he shrugged. “Astoria and Scorpius are at the Menagerie. They’ll be ages yet. If you want to, it’s fine with me.” Cass nodded eagerly.

Madame looked closely at Cass, waved her wand a few times, and summoned a tray from one of the shelves behind her. “Could you please touch each of the materials in this tray, and tell me if any of them feel differently?”

Cass did so, and paused as she touched a little scale. “This one. It makes my fingers tingle.”

“Pain?”

“No, not at all. It feels like I’m stroking feathers.”

“Basilisk scale. How interesting,” Madame said, her face lighting up even more. “This scale was one that Monsieur Ollivander had been saving. It had been gifted to him by a former student, and Garrick said that one day, the recipient would arrive for it.” She seized the scale, and went back to her worktop, humming and chanting to herself. Cass was looking a little uncomfortable, but Draco smiled reassuringly at her. It didn’t take long before Madame Lefebvre was passing her the wand, holding it by the tip. “Would you try it?”

Cass looked even more uncomfortable. She bit her lip. It was as though she desperately wanted to, but something was holding her back. “Go ahead,” Draco prompted.

“Okay,” she said uncertainly. She took hold of the wand, and gave it a tentative wave. Silver and gold sparks shot from the tip. Madame Lefebvre clapped her hands.

“Cheri, it has found you! This is your wand!”

“Oh, no, actually…” Cass looked at Draco a little desperately. 

Draco was confused. Did she think she needed to be polite? Was it because she wasn’t yet eleven? Did Potter have a rule about it? Draco’s temper flared a little. He had missed every important event in this child’s life. Her first steps, her first time on a broom. He’d never seen her perform magic, he’d never even seen how she looked when she was sleeping. Suddenly, Draco wanted this moment for himself, more desperately than he’d ever wanted something before. 

“Of course it’s your wand, Cass.”

“But Dad…”

“I’m sure your Dad will understand. I’ll explain it to him.”

“I’m not so sure he will.”

“Well, he can take it up with me. Now, please don’t be rude, and thank Madame Lefebvre.”

“Thank you Madame,” Cass said, a little woodenly. 

Madame Lefebvre didn’t seem to notice Cass’ reluctance as Draco paid for the wand, and it was packed into the distinctive Ollivander’s box. Madame placed it into a carrier bag, and handed it across the counter. Cass gave it a mournful look, before taking the handles and following Draco from the store.


	6. Chapter 6

Later, after they had coaxed Scorpius away from the menagerie, where he was so charmed by the Kneazle kittens that Draco may have agreed to buy him one when he was better, they were back at Draco’s house. Over tea, Draco asked, “So, what else would you like to do, while we’re together?”

Cass thought for a moment. “Do you suppose you could show me your house? The house that you grew up in?”

Draco was surprised. “I could, of course. I didn’t realize that you’d want to see it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Cass tilted her head, surprised. “Of course I want to know more about you, learn your stories.”

“Some of my stories aren’t very nice,” Draco admitted.

Cass smiled. “That’s what Dad says about his, too. But I am starting to piece it together.”

“How?”

“Dad talks in his sleep. Every time I get a clue, Uncle Professor helps me to figure them out.”

“And what do you know so far?”

“Dad had a friend named Cedric, and he got hurt, or maybe died. Uncle P says that there was some sort of contest and Dad was a contestant, and it was all some sort of plot by Voldemort to hurt Dad. And he had a Godfather called Sirius, and Dad thinks it was his fault that he died.”

“Yes, he does. It isn’t true though.”

“I think that must have been the second worst thing that happened to Dad.”

“And what do you think the worst thing is?”

“Something about you.”

Draco frowned. It could be any number of things and if the fact that Draco couldn’t narrow it down didn’t tell him everything about the impossibility of their relationship…He wasn’t at all sure how to explain things to Cass, but maybe he could put it off for a while longer. Little girls deserved to be free of nightmares like the ones that Harry lived through, and clearly, Harry felt the same way, since he hadn’t told her anything. “And what do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. Uncle Professor just says, ‘it’s complicated’. If you want to know, you should ask Dad.”

“Maybe I will. Cass, someday I’ll tell you about some of the bad parts of my childhood, but for today, I’d love to show you the good ones.”

“Will Grand-Mère be there?”

“I expect so.”

“And will I meet Grand-Père?”

“If you like. Grand-Père isn’t well. He sometimes gets confused, or upset. It might even cause him, in his confusion, to say something unkind to you. If you think that it will upset you to see him, I’ll ask Grand-Mère to make sure he stays away.”

“No, I want to meet him. I don’t mind if he’s confused.”

Just then, Astoria and Scorpius entered the room. “Draco, I was thinking of heading over to my place for a while. I need to run some errands, and I want to spend some time in the garden.”

“You don’t live here?” Cass seemed surprised.

“No, darling, I have my own flat,” Astoria said. “I thought I’d bring Scorpius with me, give the two of you some time on your own.”

“Of course,” Draco agreed. “Take his potions, just in case. Will you join us for dinner at the Manor?”

With plans finalized, Cass and Draco flooed over to the Manor. A house elf popped in to greet them right away. “Master Draco!” The elf was beside herself with joy. “You is here! And you is bringing young Mistress of the House of Malfoy! Madame Narcissa is being in the gardens.”

Cass was looking around with barely concealed wonder. “This place is huge.”

“Yes, this is where I grew up. Welcome to Malfoy Manor.”

Narcissa, it turned out, was not alone in the gardens. Draco went over to his father and kissed both of his cheeks. “Hello, Father.”

“Draco?” Lucius looked at him, a little blearily. “Are you home for Easter break?”

“No, Father, I wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Cass.” Draco tugged his daughter’s arm and she stepped closer.

“Hello, Grand-Père,” she said gently. 

Lucius looked at her for a very long time, his brow wrinkled. “Is Cass a Muggle name?”

“No, Father, it’s short for Cassiopeia.”

“Oh, family of Narcissa’s, then. You’re quite welcome, child.” His face suddenly twisted. “She’s not Andromeda’s daughter, is she?”

“No, Grand-Père. Don’t worry. I was hoping I could sit with you for a while?” Cass curtsied with impeccable manners, and Draco smiled.

“Oh. Yes, of course, my dear.” Lucius struggled to his feet and gestured to a chair beside him.

Cass gave her father a beaming smile. “Go say hello to Grand-Mère. I’ll come see her in a bit, if that’s okay.”

“You’re sure you’re alright? Grand-Père might say some odd things.”

“I’m fine.” Cass sat next to her grandfather and took his hand. 

As Draco walked to where his Mother sat, he heard his Father say, “You know, you have the look of a Black about you.”

Draco kissed his Mother’s cheeks, and sat to pour a cup of tea. “Do you think she’ll be alright, with Lucius?”

“I expect so. Hopefully he doesn’t question her lineage too much. He liked the fact that she had a star name.”

“Yes, I expect it will get exciting if she explains who her Dad is. How is Harry doing?”

“He’s holed up in Hogwarts, thanks to his stunt at the Press Conference.”

“Did you thank him?”

“Thank him? Mother, why on earth would I thank him? I was humiliated.”

“Interesting that there’s been no negative press though, only a lot of speculation about star-crossed lovers in Wartime.”

“Hmph. He’s a fool.”

“Perhaps. Why did you never tell me that you were seeing him?”

“It wasn’t worth it. It would never have worked out. I knew that you and Father would have been furious.”

“We might have been.”

“I resent your tone, Mother. I seem to recall both you and Father encouraging me to restore the Malfoy name. And you certainly didn’t ask any questions when Astoria and I began our courtship.” Draco continued to watch his Father and Cass. They were chatting animatedly, and at one point, Cass laughed, her beautiful face looking warm and happy.

“Draco, darling, I know that it was a difficult time for you. We’d failed you so dreadfully, during the war, and then you were working so hard to try to lead the family. I wish that you’d felt that you could confide in me.”

“It was hard for all of us, Mother. I didn’t see how burdening you with my indiscretions would help anyone.”

“Well, to begin with, I would have encouraged your relationship,” Narcissa said calmly.

“You’re joking.” Draco felt suddenly cold. He noted, with a detached sort of alarm, that Cass and Lucius had stood and were walking away.

“Lucius, dear?” Narcissa had gotten to her feet.

“Peacocks!” Lucius called gaily, and Draco and his Mother exchanged a look. Narcissa hastily summoned an elf, and sent it to discreetly follow and watch them.

“Darling,” Narcissa continued, as though her addled husband hadn’t just wandered away with his daughter, “do you really think that a liaison with Harry Potter would have been anything but positive for our family’s reputation? More importantly, did you not think I noticed how happy you were when you were with him? I was so pleased that you’d become friends, and I didn’t realize that it was something more until after it had ended.”

“That’s…”. Draco didn’t know what to say. It was heartbreaking, really. For a single moment, Draco allowed himself to imagine what could have been different, before he realized that it didn’t matter, not now. Harry had left him too, had hidden his daughter from him. And even if Draco could get past his sense of betrayal, Harry was over him as well. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is.”

“Have you talked?”

“No.”

“Draco, you didn’t confide in me then, and I understand why, even if I wish it had been different. Will you take the advice of an old woman who has more regrets than I can count?”

“You’re not old!”

“Thank you darling. But please, listen to me. You need to talk. You need to be honest with him about your feelings.”

“I don’t have any feelings. Except anger, I suppose.”

“Draco. Don’t be a fool. If you allow Harry to return to Canada without telling him how you feel, you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

“Mother, he hates me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re right. He doesn’t care enough to hate me. He doesn't want me. And I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

“Perhaps. You’ll never know how he feels if you don’t ask him. He won’t tell you, unless you tell him first. Put your pride aside, Draco. Let him see how you really feel.”

“I don’t want to. He hurt me.”

“Very well. I wonder though, if you were in his position, what would you have done?”

Draco was saved from having to answer, since they were presented with the site of Lucius Malfoy, walking four albino peacocks on bejewelled leashes. Cass was standing next to him, wearing a look of wry amusement. It seemed to be taking every ounce of her composure to keep from laughing.

“Oh Salazar. What on earth?” Narcissa set off across the lawns, no doubt to rescue the peacocks, whose ancestors had gone nearly feral during the Dark Lord’s stay at the Manor. Draco wondered if these ones had any better manners. He knew that he should get up, help sort things out, but his Mother’s question lingered in his mind. What _would_ he have done in Harry's place? If he'd been rejected, alone? He knew that Harry's relationship with the Weasleys had been strained after he and Ginny broke up, and Ron and Hermione hadn't exactly been supportive of him dating Draco. And Harry had always been under public scrutiny. Would Draco have been able to handle the speculations, the gossip, if he'd been in Harry's place?

It wasn't right, what Harry had done. But Draco couldn't honestly say that he would have done anything differently. He didn't forgive Harry, he concluded. But he thought he might understand, at least a little. After all, Draco's reasons for breaking up with Harry were little different than Harry's reasons for leaving.

Later that night, after dinner had ended, and they’d flooed home, Scorpius asleep on Draco’s shoulder, Draco looked in on Cass. She was lying in the big bed in the spare room, and she looked rather small and frightened under the coverlet. “Alright?” Draco asked.

Cass nodded. “It’s a bit weird. First night without my Dad.”

“Are you lonely?”

“A bit. He’s just always been there. And now that he isn’t, it feels strange. I’m okay, though.”

“Do you want some company, until you fall asleep?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Papa. Would you tell me a story?”

“Of course. Do you know what sort of a story you’d like?”

“Tell me why you left my Dad.”

Oh. Oh no. “Darling, wouldn’t you like a different sort of story? This one doesn’t end happily.”

“It’s the story I want.”

Draco paused for a moment, not certain where to begin. How did one explain his greatest regret, especially to the product of that very relationship?

“I’ll try, Cass,” he said, and sighed. “The thing you need to know about Harry Potter, is that I have been fascinated by him for as long as I can remember. When I was small, every child in our World knew his name. Whether he was a hero or a menace depended greatly on what side your parents fought on. You know about Voldemort?”

“A little. Bad wizard. Hated Muggles.”

“That’s the extent of it, but it was much more complicated at the time. My family is an old, Pureblooded family. We have been wealthy, and entitled, and powerful, for generations. The Manor you saw today has been in my family for centuries. People who have power will go to great lengths to preserve that power, and so my Grand-Père, and my Papa were both very interested in how a man named Tom Riddle believed that he could preserve that way of life.”

Cass was watching him intently, her grey-green eyes wide, and her face pinched in a way that suggested that she was considering his words carefully.

“So, my family had sworn their loyalty to Lord Voldemort, as Riddle came to be called, long before I was born. When Harry and I were babies, Voldemort disappeared, and Harry was whispered about as the Boy who Lived. My family, threatened by the notion that a half-blooded baby could vanquish their great hope, told me that Harry Potter was nothing more than a piece of propaganda, used to frighten Purebloods. I grew up at my Father’s knee, hearing that the Dark Lord would someday return, and that he would crush Harry Potter beneath his boot.”

“But secretly,” Draco continued, “I thought that Harry Potter was a hero, and the most powerful wizard alive. When I found out that I would be attending Hogwarts with him, I knew that he would be my best friend. As a rich, spoiled little boy, I’d never been told ‘no’ before, and when Harry refused my friendship, I couldn’t understand it. I wanted his attention desperately, and so I pulled all sorts of stunts to try to gain it. If he wouldn’t be my friend, he wasn’t going to be permitted to ignore me.”

Cass made a face. “You sound like you were a little monster.”

Draco laughed. “I was. And I didn’t realize that until I was eighteen years old. The War was difficult, not just for Voldemort’s enemies, but for his followers too. He was cruel, and he was driven, and he didn’t care how he used someone, so long as he was getting what he wanted. When Harry finally ended him, our society was very angry at those of us who had taken his Mark. Anyone who had been in his service was hated. Harry spoke for me at my trial. Don’t get me wrong, Cass. I did terrible things, things I’d give anything to take back, but I was also a scared kid, trying to protect my family. Harry seemed to understand that, and so he managed to keep me out of prison, and get my Mother put on House Arrest. My Father served a five year term in Azkaban. We were given incredible leniency, and the people in our social circle hated us for it.”

“What did they do?”

“Well, I was sometimes hexed and spat on when I went to Diagon Alley. It was very difficult for me to find a job, and there wasn’t anyone on either side who wanted anything to do with us. Those who had supported the Dark Lord thought we were traitors, and those who had supported Dumbledore and Harry thought we were taking advantage of our wealth and privilege. In a way, they were both right.”

“Were you embarrassed?”

“No, worse. I was ashamed. We’d been wrong, you see. All of the things I thought were true, they just…weren’t. I had to rethink everything I’d always believed. And after I did that, I realized that Harry had been a kid too, and he’d managed to make choices that were right, not easy. And that was…galling. He’d been my most cherished enemy. I had hated him more than I hated Voldemort, because he was human, and vital, and captivating. I hated him as much as I was fascinated by him.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes you meet people like that. Anyway, Harry and I crossed paths again after my trial.”

Cass nodded. “He said he fell in love with your face when you found your wand.”

That hurt, and Draco had to take a moment to grieve, just a moment, even as something niggled at the back of his mind at the mention of his wand, before he said, “I’m sure you’ve seen what your Dad is like when he decides on something. The way his eyes are filled with fire. After all of those years where I’d been desperate for his attention, once I had it…I wasn’t sure what to do with it. It was intense, and I was still so immature. But of course, it was inevitable that I would fall in love with him.”

“So you did love him?”

“Oh, Cass, yes. I loved him more than I loved myself, and for a spoiled brat like me, that’s a lot. For a while, once we started dating, things were good. We were hidden away from the world, in Harry’s Godfather’s house. While we were insulated like that, it was perfect. But life doesn’t allow you to stay hidden away forever. Harry wanted to tell the world that we were together. He’s not afraid of anything, you know? He didn’t care what the consequences were. But I’d watched the newspapers, and the stupid people in our society rip him apart for one thing or another since he was eleven years old. I knew that they wouldn’t stand for their Hero consorting with a Death Eater.”

“So you decided for him.”

“It wasn’t just that. My Father…wasn’t coping well with prison. I visited him each week, and he seemed less and less stable, each time I saw him. He was dying in front of my eyes, week by week. And he was fixated upon restoring our name. He was so filled with regret for how he’d let the family down, all he wanted was something to hope for.”

“But he’s the one who made all the mistakes. Why would you care so much about him?”

Draco sighed. It felt like this conversation was nothing _but_ sighs. “Your Dad grew up without a family, and so he didn’t have the experience with the overwhelming sense of duty that comes along with one like mine. It only stands to reason that you’d be the same. Don’t get me wrong,” he said hastily, when it looked as though she were about to defend him. “Your Dad is the most unfailingly loyal person I know. This is different. A family like mine is like a chain around your neck. It keeps you tethered. It keeps you secure and safe, yes, but when you’re raised as I am, the first lesson you learn is duty. There is no pride in failing the family. Through all my formative years, the responsibility of being a Malfoy was foremost. It is…was, a difficult paradigm to overcome, especially in the midst of realizing how wrong my beliefs had been.”

“You should be loyal to your family because of love,” Cass insisted stubbornly.

“Yes. You should. But at eighteen, when the very bedrock of my understanding of the world had been chipped away, family was the one familiar thing I had left. And so, each week, when my Father begged me to marry well, to produce an Heir, to continue the lineage, I agreed, because it was inconceivable to do otherwise. And I would come home to Harry after each visit, and he felt just as unattainable as he had when we were enemies.”

“So you always knew that you were going to choose your family? You just used my Dad?”

“No! No, it wasn’t like that. Your Dad was hope, and joy, and my heart. In fact, on the day that Harry and I separated, I went to Azkaban, resolved to tell my Father that I was making different choices. I knew that he would likely disinherit me, but I was resolved to choose Harry.”

“So what happened?”

“My Father asked to speak to me in private. His mind had broken, really. He didn’t, in any way, resemble the man I had idolized, followed for my entire life so far. He was desperate, unhinged. He…in his terror, he was hurting himself. He begged me to find a suitable wife, to save the family. He fell to his knees and sobbed, pleading at the feet of my robes for me to restore his dignity.”

Draco felt the prickle of tears at his eyes. “It…hurt, seeing him like that. My childhood had ended, years earlier, but this broke something apart inside me. All of the shame I carried, all of the sins I’d committed, this was my punishment. And so I assured him that I would. He made me swear a Wizard’s vow. If I didn’t do as I promised, I’d lose my magic.”

Cass’ eyes were enormous, filled with fear and sadness. Draco wondered how to explain. She was a little girl, and for her, the world was still dark and light with no twilight in the middle. She hadn’t yet been exposed to the cruelty of life, the pain that exists in the hazy grey in between right and easy.

“When I stumbled from the visitor’s lounge, I felt like I was going to throw up, and I wanted to curl up and cry. I couldn’t return to Harry, not after I’d given up on him to obey my Father. I returned to the Manor, wrote him a note. I told myself that Harry had been too good for me anyway, that he deserved better than someone like me. I reminded myself that family was everything for a Malfoy. It took me nearly two full days to return to Harry. I stepped out of the floo, and he was there, looking so beautiful, and so hopeful.”

Draco blinked hard to dispel the tears that threatened. “And then I broke up with him. Told him that I hadn’t loved him. That it had been a nice time, and I’d never taken it seriously. I let him walk away, confused, and hurt, and betrayed.” _And pregnant_ , his mind supplied.

“Are you sorry?”

“Yes, cheri. I am sorry. I have been sorry since the moment I vowed on my magic to betray him.”

“Did you tell him so?”

“I don’t think it would help anything. I can’t change what’s happened. I don’t expect that he would forgive me if he knew every detail. Perhaps it is better for him to hate me than to realize that I had loved him, but not chosen him.”

“Have you been happy, in the life you picked?”

“I think,” Draco said slowly, thinking, “that I have been about as happy as your Dad has been. So there is the sad story of Draco and Harry. Did I upset you?”

Cass shrugged. “I’m sad for you both. I wish that things had been different, but if they were, you wouldn’t have Scorpius and Astoria.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been so awful.”

“You were mad,” she replied simply.

“Do you realize that I’ve been angry at myself, mostly?”

“Yes. Do you realize that my Dad _doesn’t_ understand that?”

“You’re very smart, you know.”

Cass nodded. “Ravenclaw,” she said solemnly.

“Do you think you’ll sleep?” She nodded, and so Draco tucked the blankets snugly around her. “May I kiss you goodnight?” Another nod. Draco spelled the lights low, refreshed the glass of water by her bed, and left her to rest.

After a check on Scorpius revealed that he was fast asleep, and a second one on Cass revealed the same, Draco left his sleeping children (Children! Plural! In his house!), and curled into his favourite chair. The wounds left from discussing his failures were deep, and he manfully soothed them with a snifter of brandy. It helped about as much as he expected it to, and invariably, his mind returned to his discussion with Cass.

Are you sorry? Did you tell him so?

Was it a kindness to try to make amends, when you don’t know if you’d do it any differently if you had the chance? This, it seemed, was the crux of the matter. At the time, Draco couldn’t have turned his back on his family. If he had been asked now to choose, between a partner and his parents’ honour, he would grapple with the issue, but he liked to think that he wouldn’t have capitulated so readily. The definition of family changed, over time, he realized, and his responsibilities were different now.

But at the time, even if he had known about Cass, if he’d been forced to choose between his responsibilities, he honestly didn’t know what he’d have done. He hadn’t had enough life experience to gain the strength of his convictions. And besides, he attempted to convince himself, he _hadn’t_ known. Harry had taken that choice away from him. Ignoring, for the time being, the fact that he hadn’t been honest with Harry either, he clung to his wounded pride for as long as he could before he realized that none of his self justification mattered. Whether or not his choice had been untenable, he’d loved Harry desperately for every moment they’d been apart. His heart, feeble thing that it was, had longed for him since he’d said goodbye. Ironic, that, in trying to do the right thing, he’d without a doubt, repeated the same short-sighted patterns of his youth. 

At the end of the following day, Harry returned to fetch Cass in time for dinner, and had responded to Astoria’s owled invitation to join them. He crossed the floo and was immediately overwhelmed by the gangly arms and legs of his enthusiastic daughter. He seemed equally excited to see her and Draco tried to ignore the pang that struck his heart like a gong.

Harry had a bouquet of flowers, which he presented to Astoria, and a little vial of rosewater for Narcissa, both of whom practically cooed at him as they thanked him.

Draco busily served drinks, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye, and resolving to finally talk to him after the meal. Now that he’d admitted the truth to himself, he couldn’t stop staring at the little flecks of grey that had begun to appear at his temple, and the way his eyes never strayed from Cass, even when he was speaking to another. It was as though a night away from his daughter had been like a week without water, and he couldn’t stop drinking her in.

And his daughter, when back in the presence of her other father, simply came to life. Where she had been polite, intelligent and wryly funny with Draco, she was a delight when with Harry. She teased him, her hand never left his arm, and she seemed intent on filling him in on everything that had happened since they’d been apart. Draco knew that envy was one of his faults, but watching their insular little world, utterly content with one another, Draco grappled with the unintentional exclusion. It wasn’t that Harry or Cass were deliberately ignoring him. It was just that, reunited, they had no ability to focus on anyone else. 

It could be his only excuse for his thoughtless performance at dinner. Narcissa had been telling Harry about Cass’ visit to the Manor. Draco listened with half an ear, caught up in thoughts of Harry and Cass, and how he’d stupidly made the decision to abandon what could have been his. Harry seemed calm about the fact that Cass had spent time with Lucius, and roared with laughter when told about the peacocks.

Narcissa completed her telling with a compliment guaranteed to please Harry. “Harry, you must be awfully proud of Cass. She’s so mature.”

Harry beamed, and then Draco’s mouth, free of any intervention from his brain, said, “Well, of course she is. She was raised by someone who didn’t know what it was like to be a child.” The chorus of gasps around the table was Draco’s first indication that he hadn’t expressed himself well. He cringed, unsure how to recover from his faux pas. Harry’s childhood was very firmly not spoken of. It had taken many nights when they were together, complete with vast quantities of Fire Whiskey, and full body snuggling on Draco’s part to pry the story from a tearful Harry. Draco had merely been remarking upon Harry’s unique parenting style, that of raising a self-confident young woman, but clearly he’d phrased it badly, as a criticism.

Now, as around the table he was gaped at in horror, Draco struggled to right himself.

Harry placed his fork gently down in his plate, dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his napkin, and said, “Cass, get your things, please.”

“Dad, I’m sure-”

“Harry-” Draco looked helplessly across the table, rising to his feet as well.

“Now.” The tone brooked no argument, and Cass, white-faced, ran up to the spare room to gather her possessions.

Harry rose, excused himself, and then stood by the floo, and waited, his face a bleak mask that revealed nothing.

Draco approached him awkwardly. “Harry, I honestly didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“Well, it’s good that you don’t even have to try to hurt me anymore. Less taxing for you, I’m sure.” Draco had never heard Harry’s voice sound so cold.

“Please don’t go, Harry. I was hoping that we could talk.”

“I’m not really up to that tonight, Draco. I am, obviously, a bit thin-skinned at the moment, and I can’t bear to listen to all of the ways that I’ve failed you.”

“No, I don’t want that, honestly.”

Cass ran into the room, her expression pinched and, if Draco were a betting man, he’d say close to tears. “I’m ready, Dad. Are you sure we have to go?”

“I am. We’ll see the Malfoys at the Hospital.”

“Okay,” Cass said sadly, giving Draco a ‘fix this now!’ look. “Papa, will you give my love to everyone?”

“Yes, of course, Cheri.” She rolled her eyes at him, and he gestured helplessly back, unsure how to fix anything.

Harry reached for Cass’ travel bag, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted a thin box on the top. It was as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He swayed a little, and devastated green eyes met Draco’s. “You took her to get her wand?” Draco had only heard his voice sound so little, so lonely, once before.

“No, Dad, it wasn’t like that,” Cass said, her eyes filling for real.

“Draco, you had to do this? You had to hurt me as much as you could?”

At first, Draco couldn’t understand what the problem was. Without question, he’d been stupid and thoughtless, at the dinner table, but why would Harry be upset about taking his daughter to Diagon Alley? Why would he begrudge Draco one moment of his child’s magical upbringing? Stifling a groan, Draco rephrased the question in his head. Why would Harry Potter, wandsmaster, be offended that Draco had taken away a moment that he’d likely dreamed of his entire life?

“Oh Merlin, Harry. I didn’t think. It wasn’t something I did on purpose, I swear…”

“Dad? Daddy? It wasn’t like you’re thinking,” Cass said, a little panicked.

Harry smiled thinly. “Well played, Malfoy,” he said quietly, then he wrapped his arm around his daughter and ushered her into the floo.

Draco wasn’t sure how he managed to return to the dinner table, and, somewhat woodenly, ask his mother to take Scorpius for the night. She gave him a look, one eyebrow arched, but he merely shook his head and she didn’t press the issue.

The moment Narcissa, and a bubbly, chattering Scorpius disappeared within the green flames, Draco placed his head against the mantle and let out the sigh he’d been holding in.

“Tell me,” Astoria said mildly, summoning the gin.

“There is no _end_ to the ways in which I am fucking this up.”

“It could be worse?” It wasn't comforting that it sounded like a question.

“Don’t tease me,” he begged. “I can’t bear it.”

“Alright then. Was it only your staggering lack of filter at the dinner table that has you so upset?”

“Tori, Cass got her wand while we were in Diagon.”

“Yes.”

“Harry’s a Wandmaker, did you not know?”

“Oh. I don’t think I knew that. Or if I did, I’d forgotten.”

“Yes, well so did I, until he looked as though I’d hit him when he saw the box. He’ll never believe that I didn’t do it to hurt him.”

“And it matters to you now?”

“It always did, I’m only allowing myself to admit it now.

“That’s progress.’

“No, Tori, it’s really not.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“How am I going to get a chance?”

“We’ll figure it out.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh guys, somehow I totally forgot that yesterday was Thursday. Working from home for months on end will do that to a girl! Apologies for the late update, and hope you enjoy this chapter!
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It was just past six am when Draco, Astoria and Scorpius arrived at St. Mungo’s. The Welcome witch directed them to the fifth floor, where a mediwitch was waiting for them. The paediatric unit was bright and cheerful, and had animated murals of a woodland scene. Fairies flitted from shrub to tree branch, and rabbits hopped across the forest floor. Scorpius was quickly shown to a room, where Cass and Harry were waiting.

Scorpius ran over to give his sister a hug, and then bestowed a similar embrace upon Harry, who smiled and said, “All ready Score?”

“Yes! Today’s the day!”

Draco gave his daughter a kiss on the top of the head, and said, “Harry, thank you again for this.”

“’s nothing,” Harry mumbled, not looking at Draco. “Thank Cass.”

Cass met Draco’s eyes, and gave him a little smile. “Thank you,” Draco said to Cass, and she shrugged it off, looking about as comfortable with the attention as Harry had been back in school.

Cici entered the room, followed by a severe looking Healer wearing the purple robes of the paediatric wing. “Good morning, Malfoys and Potters!” Cici cried. “Today’s the big day. I’d like you to meet Healer Mancini, who will be leading the procedure. All ready, Scorpius?”

“Yes Miss Cici,” Scorpius chirped, grabbing Cass’ hand.

“All ready Cass?”

“I’m ready.” Cass looked nervous, Draco realized, but completely convinced of what she was about to do.

“Good to hear. So, here’s what will happen this morning.” Cici said. Once we get each of you into your Hospital robes, we’ll give you both a sleeping draught. You’ll each sleep through the entire procedure, so once you wake up, it will all be over.” Cass nodded and brushed a lock of hair from Scorpius' forehead. 

Healer Mancini continued. “With Scorpius, we need to remove some of his existing bone marrow first, in order to make room for the new. In Muggle procedures, this is done a little differently, but in your case, we’ll be able to simply remove it with a spell. Next, we’ll remove the bone marrow from Cass’ hip, using a special device. We’ll use a similar one to insert the bone marrow into Scorpius. Then, each of you will receive some healing spells, to ensure that there is no infection, and, for Scorpius, to encourage his body to recognize the foreign bone marrow. When you each wake up, we’ll monitor you for a little while, to make sure you’re healing well, and then your parents can come back in and spend the rest of the day with you. Tomorrow morning, assuming all goes well, you’ll each be able to go home. Any questions?”

“How long will we be asleep?” Cass asked.

“From start to finish, we expect you sleep about two hours. Everything should be finished before lunchtime. Alright then, I’ll leave you all to get changed, and you can kiss your parents goodnight, and then we’ll be back in to give you the draughts.” Cici gave them all a big smile, and she and Healer Mancini exited, shutting the door behind them.

Cass took her hospital robes to the attached loo, and soon emerged wearing them. They had yellow ducks patterned all over them. “Look Dad,” Cass said.

“Little ducks,” he said softly, giving her a fond little look.

“So soft,” she mocked, and his his grin was genuine, if a little wobbly.

Astoria had finished changing Scorpius into his robes, which were covered with lions. “Like a Gryffindor,” he crowed. “Just like Harry!”

“You’re braver than I am, Scorpius,” Harry said, and Scorpius beamed up at his Father.

“Did you hear that, Papa?”

“I did. You good, Scorp?”

“I’m good, Papa.”

And then the Healers came back, and Harry, Draco and Astoria were standing outside the room where their children lay, asleep and still and so, so small in the beds. Harry was paler than Draco had ever seen him, and his eyes were wide behind his glasses. He seemed to be barely breathing, and Draco knew exactly that feeling, the terrible realization that your child was solely in the hands of others, that you could do nothing to protect them. 

Tentatively, Draco touched Harry’s arm. “You good, Harry?”

Harry jumped at the contact and for a moment, he looked as though he wanted to throw himself into Draco’s arms, but then his face clouded over, and he said, “Yes, I’m fine.”

_Fine_. Harry had always been fine. When he was walking around Hogwarts, chased by a madman, Draco remembered him telling his friends he was fine. When, shortly after they had started dating, Andromeda had moved to France, taking Teddy with her, Harry had been fine. When Draco had refused to go to the Burrow, Harry had been fine. Harry was always fine, especially when he wasn’t fine at all.

“Let’s go get a cup of tea.”

Harry’s face turned panicky at the idea that he’d be further away from the room where his daughter slept. “No, thanks. I think I’ll just stay here.”

“They’d come and get us, you know, if something happened.”

“I know. I just…can’t.”

“Alright, Harry,” Draco replied, and he went and got tea for all three of them anyway. When he returned, Harry was sitting on the floor outside the room. To Draco’s surprise, Astoria was sitting beside him. Draco couldn’t remember a time when Astoria has done something so undignified, in public no less, but she was sitting close, and Harry’s head was on her shoulder while she spoke quietly to him. Harry’s eyes were red-rimmed, and Draco intuited that he had given way to his fear while Draco was away. He knew that Astoria would set him right, but he still couldn’t completely quash the tiny flare of totally irrational jealousy. _Stupid Astoria_.

He sat on the other side of Harry, who was now staring straight ahead with wide, terrified eyes. Harry cast Tempus and Astoria laughed. “It’s been fifteen minutes, Harry,”

He gave an agonized grimace. “I can’t do this. Maybe they wouldn’t mind if I just stepped inside for a second? Just to make sure?”

Draco smiled. “You could try, but they ward the doors.”

“They do?” In his fear, Harry seemed to forget that he was angry with Draco.

“Yeah. I tried the first time that Scorpius had to have a procedure to repair the damage from all of his nosebleeds. The doors lit up and an alarm sounded, and four mediwitches came running and yelled at me. Seems a bit over the top, considering, but I suppose they get their fair share of nervous parents.”

“How do you guys do this?”

“No choice,” Astoria answered, shrugging. “Also, we drink. Quite a lot.” Her smile demonstrated that it was a joke, but her eyes were sympathetic. 

“Can we do that now?”

“We’ll see how you do in the second hour. It’s going to be fine, Harry.”

“But you don’t know that. You know, that’s the thing I never expected about being a parent. I think it’s fair to say that I’ve lived through some pretty scary things in my life, but I was so unprepared for how fucking terrifying it is to have this tiny, helpless little person who depended on me totally.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, a gesture so reminiscent of him in his Hogwarts days that Draco was instantly taken back. He remembered vividly the way he'd chased Harry's attention, how seeing his eyes light up with anger had fueled him on to greater heights of prattishness. He _still_ wanted Harry's attention, but he'd much rather have kissed him senseless than make him angry. _Too bad you keep fucking things up,_ he told himself gloomily.

“And then,” he continued, unaware of Draco’s ruminition, “I thought I’d gotten the hang of things…Cass wasn’t sticking stuff up her nose anymore, and she finally stopped fucking _apparating_ everywhere with wild magic, and you don’t have to tell me how awful that was to explain to her Muggle babysitter. So I had it down, right? I was keeping her alive, and she was doing cool stuff, and talking, and she was potty trained. And then I had to let her go to school, where complete strangers were in charge! I nearly had a nervous breakdown on her first day of pre-kindergarten. Severus was about to call Minerva to come and dose me with a potion.”

“It isn’t easy,” Draco agreed. “But when your child is sick, you have to get friendly with the unknown. Let’s be honest, up until you came back, we weren’t at all certain Scorpius was going to see his next birthday…” He had to stop for a second, because just saying the words made his eyes tear, and his throat feel thick. “But, you can only live in complete terror for a while, before it becomes…well not normal, exactly, but familiar.”

“It’s true,” Astoria added. “You start to learn not to think about anything beyond the immediate moment. You start to assess things based on what you know right now. And we remind each other. We ask ’You good?’ And that’s really the question. Right now, are you good?”

“Is that what that means?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, basically," Astoria said, with a smile. “Draco and I are both Slytherins, always thinking about what every single thing _means_ and how that’s going to change things in the next moment. It’s like a reminder to ourselves that right this second, we’re good.”

“You guys are fucking rock stars at this,” Harry marvelled.

A passing mediwitch suggested that they might be more comfortable in the family waiting room. Harry got a look on his face that suggested that he was about to tell the mediwitch exactly what she should be comfortable doing, so Draco hastily intervened, explaining that their two children were inside, and that they were all a little anxious. The mediwitch smiled, said she’d bring them some biscuits the next time she passed, and continued on her way.

“Rule number one, Harry, never alienate the mediwitches.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Absolutely. They control the pain medication, they can bring the best snacks, and if they hate you, they have a number of ways to make things difficult. Like adhering to visiting hours, for example.”

Harry managed a smile. The time passed slowly, and Harry grew more and more frantic. Astoria seemed to realize that Harry needed distraction, and before Draco knew it, they were playing a spirited game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill: Hogwarts Professor Edition.’

“You’re taking too long on your turn,” Astoria complained, as Harry bit his lip and thought.

“I’m stuck on one,” he complained. “I can’t decide whether to fuck or kill Snape.”

“Fuck, definitely,” Astoria said decidedly.

“Mmm, yeah, you’re probably right. He had that bedroom voice and all. Plus, I bet he was into right kinky stuff,” Harry mused. “Right then. Fuck Snape, marry Flitwick and kill Sprout. Poor Professor Sprout.”

Harry and Astoria both ganged up on Draco when he decided to fuck Lockhart, but eventually agreed that Hagrid wasn’t exactly shaggable. Draco was just about to plead that Filch wasn’t even a teacher, and was therefore exempt from consideration, when the door opened.

Harry leapt to his feet, the smile falling from his face. “Is it over?”

“It is,” Cici said. “They’re both still sleeping, but their magic and vital signs look good. You can come in and be here when they wake up.”

“Oh thank Godric” Harry muttered, practically running through the door. “How long until they wake up?”

“I expect another half hour at most,” Cici said. “They did very well, we’ll know that Scorpius is accepting the donor marrow by tonight.”

“Thank you for everything,” Draco said gratefully, and squeezed tightly when Cici gave him a hug.

Harry was kneeling next to Cass’ bed, holding her hand with both of his. His face was buried in the mattress, but as Draco approached, he heard him mumbling, “Oh thank Merlin, clever, clever girl.”

Draco gently touched his arm. “You good, Harry?”

A tear stained face looked up at him. “I’m good, Draco.”

Scorpius was the first to wake up, rubbing his eyes with little fists, and then immediately starting to cry. “Daddy,” he wailed.

Draco, who was sitting next to him, murmured soothingly, petting his hair back and peppering kisses on the little face. As he overcame his disorientation, he blinked up at his parents. “Is it over?”

“Yes, darling, you did wonderfully.”

“Can I go play?”

Astoria laughed. “Maybe soon. For now, let’s let Cici check you out.”

As she scanned Scorpius, Cici was all smiles. “Looks good, so far.”

She moved over to Cass, who still slumbered peacefully. As she waved her wand and viewed the colours that appeared, her forehead wrinkled slightly. “Hmm,” she said. “She’s still sleeping quite deeply.”

“Is that bad?” Harry asked.

“Well, it’s not bad, but a little unexpected. Cass is a bit bigger than Scorpius, and I’d expect her to metabolize the sleeping draught more quickly. She’s never had one before, correct?”

“No, never.”

“Her admission papers didn’t mention that anyone in the family has had a reaction to this potion. How have you reacted to it?”

Harry looked confused. “I’ve never taken a sleeping draught. I had some dreamless sleep during school, but never anything like this.”

Cici looked at him strangely. “You’re Cass’ bearer, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I carried her.”

“So what about during her delivery?”

Harry expression grew sheepish. “I…er, didn’t really have time. She was a bit early, and my mediwitch had to floo in from Scotland. By the time I realized that I was in labour, and Poppy arrived, there wasn’t time to put me out. She just cast a pain blocker spell.” Catching the look on Cici’s face, he blushed. “It was fine.”

“You had what amounts to an unmedicated major surgery?” Draco put his head in his hands. Harry must have been terrified, and he’d been all alone. Looking back on it later, Draco thought that this was the moment when he let go of any lingering bitterness about Harry’s decisions.

“I guess. Is Cass going to wake up soon, though?” Harry looked at Cass, his worry evident in his features.

“She should. Do you know anything about your parents’ medical history?”

“No. I don’t know anything about them. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Every so often, a patient can react poorly to sleeping draughts. It’s exceedingly rare. If Cass is one such patient, we’ll have to monitor her.”

“But she’ll wake up soon, right?”

“Harry, we don’t know exactly. She might wake up in ten minutes. She might sleep longer.”

“Cici,” Draco said, feeling fear creep back, replacing all the relief he’d just felt. “She will wake up eventually, right?”

“It’s very likely that she will, Draco. It’s an incredibly rare side effect.”

“As rare as Fanconi Anemia?” Draco asked, trying to stay calm.

“Rarer,” Cici said. “Please don’t panic, just yet. Let’s just see how the afternoon goes. She may wake up at any time.”

“Can I talk to her? Will that help?” Harry begged.

“It can’t hurt. I’m very sorry that this has happened, though, Harry. None of us expected this, and please don’t panic just yet. She's still within the boundaries of normal metabolism rates.”

Harry moved closer to the bed, and, with a glance at Cici to make sure it was alright, climbed up beside his daughter and wrapped his arms around her. Draco could see him whispering in her ear. Draco gestured Cici to the door and stepped out into the hall.

“Is there anything we can do?”

Cici’s face was kind. “Honestly Draco, I’m very optimistic that she’ll wake up. I just can’t promise you. If she isn’t awake by tomorrow morning, we’ll discuss next steps. It’s entirely possible that she’s just a bit more susceptible to sleeping draughts, and her body needs a bit of time to recover. Do you think that Harry would take a calming draught? Do you want one?”

“No. If I know anything about Harry, he won’t, not while Cass is still asleep.”

Astoria was keeping Scorpius distracted, and seemed to have the situation well in hand, so Draco pulled a chair to Cass’ bedside. Harry was still speaking softly to her, his stubby fingers stroking her wild curls back. “…and that’s because you’re the toughest little badass I know, Cassiopeia Potter. This is a little harder than waking you up for school, although, Melin knows that’s hard enough. It’s no wonder that you’ve no concerns about being a sleepyhead who is taking advantage of an opportunity to lie in. But I’ll tell you one thing, little duck, when I was just a bit older than you, I refused to die, despite a whole passel of people who wanted me to, and you’ve inherited that Potter stubbornness, understand? This isn’t going to be the end for us.” He didn’t seem to notice Draco there, and for a moment, Draco thought he might be intruding, but he couldn’t leave his daughter’s side any more than Harry could.

“Besides that, you’re also a Malfoy,” Harry continued, “and I don’t know if you noticed, but your Papa is a stubborn git as well, and he’s every bit as tough to kill as I am. That’s your heritage, my heart, your legacy is two stubborn fools who can’t seem to get their heads out of their arse, but we keep on living. This isn’t the end, do you understand me? It’s not, because you’re my beginning…” Harry started to cry, his eyes growing impossibly green behind his glasses, and his voice grew shaky. “You are my hope, and my reason for getting up in the morning, but more importantly, you’re the best person I know. You’re brave, and strong, and so loved…” 

He was crying harder now, his body shaking with sobs and his words nearly incomprehensible. “So _loved_ , Cass, by everyone who ever meets you. And you are going to live, because I can’t even understand a world that doesn’t have you in it. I’ve died before, and if I have to do it again to drag you back here, I will.”

Draco couldn’t stand it any longer. He got up from where he was sitting, and drew around the bed to the side where Harry sat. He wrapped his arms around Harry from behind, and Harry clutched his arm with the one that wasn’t stroking Cass’ hair. Harry’s entire body trembled and tears flowed freely down his cheeks, dripping onto Draco’s hands. Draco held him firmly and said, “It’s okay, Harry. She’s going to be okay, I truly believe that.”

Harry stiffened for a moment, as though he realized who was holding him, but said, “She is. She’s going to be fine, and she’s going to grow up and be a brilliant witch.” His tears seemed to have abated, and, reluctantly, Draco let him go, standing up to resume his seat on Cass’ other side.

Hours passed, Cass slept on, and Harry seemed to shrink inside himself the later it got. His face, devoid of its usual good humour and confidence, was grey and blank. When Draco’s eyes met his, he barely recognized them. They’d lost all of their sparkle. Draco had thought that the day he’d broken up with Harry was the worst he’d ever seen him. He’d been wrong.

By eight that night, Harry had barely spoken a word, and hadn’t left Cass’ beside, not even for a second. Draco wondered that he hadn’t wet the bed, but he understood. Scorpius had been disappointed that his sister hadn’t awoken, and was petulant and cranky before he finally dropped off to sleep. Astoria kissed them all soundly, and said she’d return in the morning. 

Finally, unable to bear the lingering silence, and the vitality slipping away from Harry, Draco said, “Harry, what can I do for you?”

Harry stared at him blankly, and finally said, “Can you call Minerva?”

Draco ignored a tiny stab of sadness, that he wasn’t able to comfort Harry, and went to floocall the Headmistress, who ordered him aside, thundered through the floo, and flew through the corridors of St Mungo’s like a woman possessed. “Harry,” she said from the door. He looked up, and from behind Minerva’s back, Draco thought he looked eleven years old again.

“Min,” he said, his voice fragile and shocked, and so, so lonely. She was at his side in an instant, and he allowed her to gather him into her arms.

“Oh, my poor boy,” she said softly. Draco knew that he was intruding, and so he slipped from the room, and went to update his Mother and the Weasleys. They wanted to come immediately, but Draco refused, saying that they could come and see Cass when she’d awoken. Unwilling to interrupt Harry and Minerva, Draco went to the canteen, and got himself a tepid cup of tea, and, after a moment’s hesitation, another one for Harry.

When he returned, Minerva was preparing to leave. “I’ll see her in the morning when she’s awake,” she said firmly. Her words seemed to galvanize Harry, and he squared his shoulder and managed a watery smile.

Draco spelled the lights low, so as not to disturb Scorpius. Harry was still in Cass’ bed, but he’d wriggled a little so that they shared the small space. Draco cast a cushioning charm on the hard bedside chair, and tried to get comfortable.

They’d been sitting quietly, for quite some time, when Harry’s voice came through the darkness. “It’s so stupid, you know, but I always considered her sort of a…compensation, I guess. Like the universe had been keeping score, and Cass was to make up for all the people I’d lost, all the shite things that had happened.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Draco said, after some consideration. “But I don’t think there’s any sort of scorekeeping like that.”

“Maybe not. It kept me sane, though, for a long time. A lot of stuff had…I dunno, hurt me, I guess, and I didn’t ever really work through things. I was pretty messed up, when I got to Canada. But then I had this baby, and she _needed_ me, so I sorted myself out, mostly.”

“And, you know, it’s the funniest thing,” Harry continued, in a voice that suggested it was anything but, “but I’d gotten used to things being uncertain, and fairly horrible, here in England, and when I moved to Canada, they got better. A lot better. And I got arrogant, or complacent or something. And I sort of thought that I’d used up all my bad luck.”

“And then you came back here,” Draco said. “And things got terrible again.”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“Do you regret it? Coming back? Letting Cass donate her bone marrow?”

Harry sighed. “No. I’d left it far too long to introduce you to each other.” Draco heard the distinctive scratching noise as a hand rubbed at stubble. He knew that Harry was now running his hand through his hair. “Cass deserves family, proper family, and she wanted to do this for Scorpius. I’d never regret her doing something so unselfishly giving.” Draco didn’t respond, busy wondering how Harry could be so unselfishly giving himself. Draco had enough self awareness to realize that, if the situation were reversed, he wouldn't be anywhere near as generous.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said suddenly. “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I robbed you of a lot of her life, and…” He trailed off, unable to complete this thought.

“You did,” Draco said, trying hard not to sound gentle. “But I don’t think that was your goal.”

“It _wasn’t_ ,” Harry said, his tone turning a bit pleading. “I didn’t want to wreck things for you, and Cass and I, we would have complicated things so much. I know that I didn’t fit in to your image rehabilitation plans, and I told myself that Cass didn't either. I mean, I didn’t really think of much, right then. I was a bit...upset, but I’ve thought about it since then.”

“Harry, we do need to talk about this at some point, but I don’t think this is the time. We’re both exhausted and upset, and that’s no way to clear the air.”

Harry sounded relieved as he said, “Okay. Yeah.” He sighed again. “This is so awful.”

“It is. But it will be over soon, I’m sure of it.” _And you’ll take her away from me again_ , he thought. You’ll both go away from me again.

As the hours passed, Harry fell into a fitful sleep, but Draco stayed awake. Harry was clearly dreaming, and at one point, he issued a single, heartrending sob, but didn’t wake. Draco considered nudging him out of the dream, but dismissed the idea. Things were too fraught, Draco’s emotions too tangled, to risk any further emotional exposure.

It was nearing dawn, the light turning a murky grey, when Cass’ eyes fluttered. Draco sat up instantly. She must have moved a little, because Harry also sat up, immediately alert. “Cass?” Harry’s voice was so hopeful, as though he’d willingly give his life to have his daughter awaken. _Because he would_ , Draco knew.

“Daddy?”

“Oh, baby,” Harry burst into relieved tears. “You’re awake. Oh thank Merlin. I’m so happy to hear your voice again.”

“Is Scorpius okay?”

“Yes, little duck, Scorpius is fine, and you’re awake, and even though I’m sure you took years off our lives with how worried we were, your Papa and I are awake too. It’s okay.” As Draco squinted through the gloom, he could see Harry frantically stroking her face. 

A healer, summoned by the monitoring charms, bustled in. “Good morning, Cass. How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. A little sore.”

“That means a lot sore,” Harry said disapprovingly. “Can we get her a pain draught?”

“Yes, of course,” the healer said. Draco joyfully went to floo call the relatives, and Minerva. Astoria beamed and said she’d be back at the hospital within the hour. As he closed the floo connection, Draco found himself feeling optimistic. His children were okay. They’d find out if the bone marrow was doing its job, and Scorpius would be safe. He and Harry would figure things out, and he was certain that he’d be allowed to see Cass. It was going to be fine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter, although short, is told from Harry's perspective, and, as you'll see, he's a bit of an unreliable narrator. I've been thrilled by all of the super-interesting commentary on both Harry and Draco's motivations and actions throughout this story, and I fully expect that this chapter might raise more thoughts. If it seems like he's all over the place, that's because he is, and I'll ask for your patience and indulgence for a few more chapters. I promise I'm going somewhere with this!
> 
> *************

Harry _had_ to stop hugging Cass. His normally tactile child was getting uncharacteristically irritated by how often Harry was holding her hand, or kissing her forehead. But every time he looked at her, he saw her, tiny and still, in her hospital bed, and he needed to remind himself that she was fine.

It had been, frankly, a terrible few days, and Harry was feeling the strain. He hadn’t really prepared himself for being here. He’d known that the press would be terrible, and he’d feared that his family would hate him. They hadn’t, of course, but the relationship was strained, different. It was impossible to resume as though things were the same as they'd been a decade before. He hadn’t expected to find himself in legal trouble, even if the reporter had been happy to settle for a written apology and a generous payment for pain and suffering. The medical procedure had been the worst, obviously, and if he allowed himself to think too long about how close he’d come to losing Cass, his knees got weak.

And Draco. Harry had expected Draco to be angry, but he’d been unprepared for how _hurt_ he’d been. Harry knew that family was important to Draco, but there’d been a part of him that had hoped that Draco would try to see it from Harry’s perspective. Moving to Canada had been the right thing for Harry and Cass. Harry couldn’t imagine what her life would have been like, if she’d had to grow up with the scrutiny of being Harry Potter’s daughter. It was so much better that she had gotten a normal, stable childhood. Was Draco unable to see that? It was deeply frustrating, and Harry vacillated wildly between being defensively angry that Draco was being so nearsighted and being horribly guilty at having robbed the two people he loved most of a relationship.

It was this confluence of events that had Harry nearing his breaking point as they flooed back to Draco’s house. Cass had been ordered to take it easy, and she’d insisted that if she was going to be stuck inside, it wouldn’t be at Hogwarts. Draco had offered up her room at his house, and Harry had hesitated. His reluctance to leave her alone must have shown, because Draco had said, “You too, Harry, obviously.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. You can use Astoria’s room.”

Harry took a moment to register the facts that:  
a) Astoria and Draco didn’t share a room  
and  
b) he’d be putting her out of her space if he agreed. 

“No, that’s not necessary. I can sleep on the floor in Cass’ room or something. I can’t take Astoria’s room.”

“Don’t be stupid, she can stay at her place.”

“Her place?”

“Honestly, how many divorced couples do you know that still live together?”

“You’re divorced?”

“Yes, we separated shortly after Scorpius was born.”

And just like that, Harry felt the bottom disappear from his stomach. All along, he’d been telling himself that it hadn’t mattered, what he and Draco had, because he and Astoria were so obviously happy. But a sham marriage, designed to produce an Heir? It felt cheap, and Harry was so bitterly disappointed that he couldn’t speak right away. 

As he followed the house elf to Astoria’s room to drop off his things, he suddenly realized that he could have had something similar. If he hadn’t run away, perhaps he could have shared the easygoing sense of family that Astoria and Draco had. If he hadn't been so reactive, running away without exploring the facts... _Stupid,_ he chided himself. Even as he accepted that he'd been foolish to make such a rash decision, he wondered what the cost would have been, sharing Cass with Draco. Harry always cared too much. It would have hurt him awfully to feel that he was on the fringes of a family. But Cass…Harry mourned the easy security that Cass might have had if she’d known two stable parents, who both loved her and put her first. He'd ruined everything. His thoughts whirled. He knew, deep down, that he should have done the adult thing, for Cass' sake. For Draco's sake. But how could he have managed, being so close to Draco, being forced to pretend that he was satisfied, going home to his lonely bed, being reminded that he hadn't been enough for Draco? 

And yet...His lovely, wonderful daughter. Who had never been allowed to grow up with grandparents who adored her, with the stability of a family. The only man he'd ever loved, who never knew about his own child? _Selfish. Selfish._ The voice in his head condemned him.

So great was his shame, Harry found himself unable to leave the lovely bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to mess it up, and wallowed in his misery. A knock at the door interrupted his self-flagellation. “Dad?”

“Hi sweetheart, you’re all settled?”

“Yes. Why are you just sitting here?”

“Just tired, I think. Speaking of, you should be resting, not traipsing around the house. Would you rather be in your room, or the living room?”

“Living room. But not for a minute.”

“Did you need something?”

“I just wondered. What happens next?”

“I’m not sure, really. What would you most like?”

“I want to stay here a bit longer.”

Harry felt his stomach roil a little. “You do?”

“Yeah, I’d like to spend more time with the family. But I know it’s hard for you.”

“Listen, don’t worry about me. I’m glad that you’ve told me what you want. I can’t necessarily stay here forever, I have a business and our house will need a little attention as well. But we don’t always have to be in the same place. You could stay longer, if you wanted.” Harry was proud that his voice remained even while he said this.

“I’m not sure, Dad. I don’t know if I’d want to be here without you.”

“Well, we don’t have to decide right now. How about this…you have a birthday in a week. We’ll stay until then, and we can decide what our plans are after that.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“And what would you like to do for your birthday?”

“I’d like to have a party at Grand-Mère’s house. With all of our friends and family. Do you think we could?”

“I expect so. I’ll ask your Papa.”

“Dad?”

“What is it, little duck?”

“Do you hate it here?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t hate it, exactly. It was my home for so many years, but it’s sometimes hard to be here. Brings up a lot of memories. I’m thrilled that I can show you all of the things I love about England, though.”

“I just don’t want this to be too hard for you.”

“I’m fine. You worry about you, okay? Get strong and healthy, and enjoy getting to know your family, and think about what you’d most like for your birthday.”

“Seriously? You don’t already have something for me? Usually you pick out my gifts months in advance!”

Harry’s smile was a little ragged around the edges. “I had something, but it isn’t going to work out.”

“My wand.” Cass had tearfully confessed how she’d come to acquire her wand, and Harry had been quick to reassure her.

“It’s fine, Cass, honestly. From the sounds of things, you have exactly the wand you need. Besides, I’ll tell you a little secret. Any ideas on where the basilisk scale came from?”

“It was yours?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Harry laughed, “but I did give it to Ollivander. It turns out that killing a rare magical creature gives you the right to dispose of all its ingredients.”

“So you’re okay?”

“Yes, little duck, I’m fine.”

Later that night, when the kids were sleeping, Harry was surprised to hear a knock at his door. He opened it to find a surprisingly ill-at-ease Draco, holding a bottle of fire whiskey. “It’s been a hell of a couple of days,” he said. “I thought you might like a drink.”

Harry hesitated. “Um…sure, I guess.”

“Want to come to my study?”

“Alright.” The drinks were poured, and Harry sat, uncomfortable, unsure why Draco was making the gesture.

“You look like you’re in the Headmaster’s office, waiting for punishment,” Draco said finally.

“Feels a bit that way. There’s a lot of stuff we haven’t talked about.”

“There is. But we can also just be two old friends, having a drink, celebrating their healthy children.”

“I suppose that’s true. I didn’t thank you. I don’t think I would have gotten through this without you.”

“Harry, there's nothing to thank me for. I should be thanking you, for saving my son's life. It’s hard, when your child is in the hospital. And it’s especially hard the first time your child is experiencing treatment. You did fine.”

Harry laughed. “I was so far from ‘fine’, it was a joke, but I do appreciate you being there for me.”

“Maybe it’s to make up for the times I haven’t been in the past.”

“That’s not fair, though,” Harry argued. “I didn’t give you a chance to be there.”

“No, you didn’t, Harry,” Draco said. “But never think that I forget who did the walking away.”

“I think we both walked away.”

“Why are you like this?” Draco asked suddenly. “The Harry I used to know wouldn’t have hesitated to call me a bastard for what I did.”

“Would I have?” Harry wondered if that were true. “Really, Draco, what did you do? You ended a relationship that you didn’t want to be in. You didn’t cheat on me, I’m pretty sure, and you’d never made me any promises about what we were. It isn’t your fault that I…” Harry wasn’t sure how that sentence ended. Except that he _was_ sure, and he was tired of avoiding it. “It isn’t your fault that I fell in love with you.”

“You never said.”

“I wasn’t sure if I could stand saying it to you and not hearing it back.”

Draco looked shattered for a moment. “Did you really think that? That I wouldn’t have said it back?”

Harry shrugged. “At the time? I don’t know what I thought. I was afraid I’d do something that would make you leave me. Not incorrectly, I’ll point out.”

“You didn’t do anything to make me leave you, Harry.”

The words hit Harry like arrows. “Well, it’s old history now, I suppose. There’s no sense in dredging it up. I’d rather think about how we go forward. I don’t suppose there’s any way to gain your forgiveness for what I did?”

Draco sighed. “It’s not about forgiveness. We both did things we regret.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Harry knew that he should just accept the platitude as the olive branch it was, but it felt disloyal to Scorpius, to Cass, to regret anything that produced them. “You don’t regret Scorpius, I know you don’t, and you shouldn’t. I can see how much you treasure him, and with good reason. You didn't do anything wrong by leaving me. Of course I was hurt, but that's a risk in any relationship. In some ways, I don’t regret taking Cass to Canada. That quickly after the war, the press would have eaten us alive, and she would have been the fallout, but I was wrong not to tell you.”

Draco’s forehead wrinkled. “But you wanted to punish me.”

“That’s not true!”

“No, Harry, be honest for a second. If not with me, then with yourself. You wanted to avoid attention, and you wanted someone who couldn’t choose anyone over you, who would love you most of all.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s understandable,” Draco said. “Harry, I know how fucked up your childhood was. Of course you wanted a family to love you. I get it, but if you’re really being honest, you also wanted Cass to be all yours.”

Harry thought about this for a long time, watching the ice melt in his glass. Finally, he spoke. “The only way I could live with myself, all these years, was to tell myself that you didn’t want us. That you were just…killing time with me, and that you would have denied Cass anyway. But I was so scared. Because I knew I was wrong.” Harry hated the tremor in his voice.

“Wrong about what?”

Despite his efforts, Harry’s voice shook a little, as he said, “It wasn’t that you didn’t want us. You didn’t want _me_ , but you would have loved Cass from the moment you knew about her. I was so afraid that you’d take her from me. I’d already lost you, and yes, I know that I fell too hard, got too comfortable, but I was heartbroken. And the idea that I’d give birth to this child, this little person who I already loved and you’d take her away too...” Despite what he'd told himself earlier, of the fantasy world he'd constructed about how he and Draco would raise Cass together, he knew that this was a time to be completely honest. If he had any hope of Draco understanding why he'd kept their daughter a secret, he needed to bare his neck, confess his weaknesses.

Draco was hurt, Harry could tell. He felt bad for having confessed his deepest fear this way, and he wished that he could express himself like Draco could. “Do you really think that, Harry? Do you really believe that I’d hurt you like that?” Draco sounded terribly sad.

“No! No, I don’t think that you’d try to hurt me," Harry hurried to explain. "But how long would it have lasted, Draco? You have your parents, and you got engaged right away, and you and Astoria would have known how to raise a child in a traditional wizarding home. How long would we have managed to share her back and forth before it just made more sense for you to take her full time? How long before you, or your Mother, or Astoria would kindly take me aside and tell me how much better it would be for Cass not to have the confusion of two homes? How long before the poison of being famous Harry Potter's child would have made it a burden to be associated with me?” Harry put his head in his hands and mumbled, “I just wanted a chance to experience what a family could be like. I know that makes me selfish.”

“I’m sorry, Draco, so sorry. You didn’t deserve this.” He felt completely raw, exposed. He'd never admitted this to anyone. He had spent his entire school career encouraging people to see him as a bit dull, a bit unaware of the nuances of how people saw him. It allowed him to accept the love and care of his friends, while he pretended not to see the toll it took on them. But he'd always known. During the Tri-Wizard Tournament, when the Prophet had lambasted Hermione over their inferred relationship, Harry had seen how everyone, even Mrs. Weasley, had judged her. But Harry was weak, and unable to choose the right path, sometimes. He prioritized his own selfish need for companionship and love over the safety of others. He'd been terrified of the toll it would have taken on Cass, and so he'd run away. He stood, desperate to reach the relative safety of his borrowed room.

“Harry, don’t go just yet. You've got it all wrong." Draco looked distressed. "I understand why you were afraid, I do. But I promise you, that’s not what I wanted. It’s not what I want now. We can make it work, I promise. I don’t want to take her away from you. I just want to know her too. Cass needs you, Harry. You’ve done a wonderful job raising her so far, and I want you to continue to do so. I’m so proud of our daughter.”

Harry felt tears prickling. “Thanks, Draco. I think I’ll go to bed.” He set his glass on the table next to his armchair and escaped to his room, where his thoughts continued to run in cross purposes. Could Draco truly mean it? Would they be able to make things work? He lay awake most of the night, confused, desperately wanting to believe what Draco was saying.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the very short chapter, but it's needed to get us from here to there, and because of the Point-of-view change, it didn't make sense to break it up any other way. I promise the next few are quite a bit longer, and I'll post the next chapter in a day or so to keep you from having to wait too long.
> 
> *****

The morning of Cass’ birthday dawned bright and sunny, and Draco was thrilled that the stubborn English weather had chosen to cooperate. Cass wanted a party at the Manor, and his parents' house elves had been working flat-out to get ready, with Narcissa barking orders like a drill sergeant. Harry appeared through Draco's floo, his cheeks pink and his eyes bright. “Morning, Draco,” he said. “I’ve got our brooms! It’s great weather for a fly.”

“It is,” Draco agreed, unable to keep from smiling at Harry’s excited expression. “I’m about to head over to the Manor to see if Mother needs any help. Will you be coming with Astoria?”

“I can,” Harry said, “but I’m ready to go now, if you need me to help as well.”

“You don’t mind if Cass comes with Astoria?”

“Of course not. Let me just go tell Cass what the plans are.” 

He was back quickly enough, and they flooed to the Manor. Unsurprisingly, Narcissa had everything in hand, so they sat on the terrace with tea, awaiting any instructions. “Does Cass usually have big birthday parties?” Draco asked.

Harry blushed a little. “I sometimes get a bit carried away. Last year, she had twelve girls over for a slumber party. I don’t know if you’ve ever had that many nine year old girls in a small house before, but they nearly deafened me.”

Draco laughed. “How did Severus cope?”

Harry replied, “We have to hide all of our magical items, because Cass goes to a Muggle school. He’d fortunately escaped back to Hogwarts the day before. Actually,” he looked shy and a bit vulnerable, as he pulled a small packet from his satchel and handed it over. “I have something for you. I was going to give it to you later, but this is as good a time as any. You just need to unshrink it.”

Draco tapped the parcel with his wand, and unwrapped the parchment. It was a huge volume. “What is this?”

“I just wanted you to know that you weren’t forgotten. It’s not the same, but…” Harry trailed off as Draco opened the book. Inside Draco recognized Harry's looping, messy scrawl, with a number of photographs. The first page featured an exhausted looking Harry, holding a tiny baby, grinning weakly at the camera. “They’re all there. All of her firsts. I’m not much of a writer, but I did my best to describe everything. I started it the day after she was born.”

Draco leafed through the pages, watching a younger Harry and a tiny Cass as she threw mushy baby food at the camera and danced at a ballet recital. There was an excellent photo of a tea party with her Uncle Professor’s portrait. Draco noted, with some amusement, that Severus was wearing something that looked like Augusta Longbottom’s vulture hat for the occasion. It was a decade told in events, a widely smiling baby sporting her first tooth, a beaming four year old on her first day of school, and, Draco’s favourite, a serious looking Cass bowing in a karate gi. There were birthdays (which did look shockingly elaborate), and Christmases, and first broom rides, a tiny Cass on skates, wobbling across the ice after a puck, all peppered with Harry’s messy handwriting as he explained each one.

“Harry,” Draco said, completely moved. “This is absolutely wonderful. Thank you.”

“Least I could do,” he muttered shyly, his blush turning the tips of his ears pink.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Astoria, Scorpius and Cass, who were followed onto the patio by Narcissa and Lucius. Cass was practically vibrating with excitement, and, as she ran around, exclaiming over the decorations, and hugging her grandparents, Scorpius trailed after her, shouting his approval. Lucius approached where Harry and Draco were sitting, and Draco tensed. “James Potter, as I live and breathe!” Lucius exclaimed jovially. “I never thought I’d see you here!”

“Hello, sir,” Harry said, extending his hand.

“It’s good that we’ve managed to smooth over any previous unpleasantness,” Lucius continued brightly. “Sorry about that awful Dark Lord thing!”

“Um, yessir. Water under the bridge,” Harry said, giving Draco a wide eyed look of panic.

“Where’s Lily? I’m sure Narcissa would like to welcome her to our home!”

“Oh, um, she couldn’t make it,” Harry said. “D-dragon flu.”

“Terrible business, that,” Lucius said wisely. “My Uncle Septimus died of Dragon Flu. She must take care.”

“Yes, of course. She’s staying well, but thank you for your concern, and for welcoming us today.”

Lucius nodded and bowed low, before spying Scorpius and Cass, and headed in their direction quickly, saying, “Draco! Bring your friend and we’ll go visit the peacocks!” 

“Merlin,” Draco muttered. “He’s worse than Lockhart.”

“He’s much more pleasant like this,” Harry said, and Draco admired his dimples as he grinned. “That’s probably the nicest conversation I’ve ever had with your dad. Probably the nicest one _my_ dad had with him as well.”

Draco cast Tempus. “We have time for a quick seeker’s match before everyone arrives. You interested?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his smile widening. “I’ll do you one better though. Want to see your daughter fly?”

Draco examined Harry and Cass’ brooms as Harry unshrunk them. They were a different design than English brooms, and Draco was eager to see how they performed. He mounted his own broomstick and watched as Harry cast a few safety spells on his daughter. “Daa-ad,” she moaned. “I thought we talked about these.”

“No dying allowed on your birthday,” he replied cheerfully. Cass gave him a saucy little glare, and took off into the sky like a shot. Draco watched as she soared high, and his breath caught in his throat as she dipped back down and executed a flawless Wronski Feint. “She’s brilliant,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” Harry said softly, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s graceful form. “It’s in her blood, Draco. She was born to do this.” He grinned at Draco, his eyes alight, and then took off into the air, where he swooped close to Cass. Draco could hear their laughter and his heart swelled. He’d never imagined that he’d experience this. He kicked off and headed into the sky to join his daughter and her other father, his heart thumping maddeningly in his chest.

Cass played unapologetically dirty in her quest to capture the snitch. She took advantage of her small frame to duck in and out of her fathers, often forcing them to pull up suddenly to avoid crashing into her. At one point, Draco’s heart nearly stopped as she overbalanced. He sped in her direction, only to watch as she righted herself, ducked nimbly around him with a wink, and snatched the snitch that was hovering behind his head.

“You monster!” Draco couldn’t help but laugh.

“Everyone for herself on the pitch,” she said, raising her eyebrow in a characteristic Malfoy gesture.

“I warned you,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at Draco. “She’s absolutely heartless.”

“That may be,” Cass agreed. “But I won.”

Their game was interrupted by the sound of applause on the ground. Draco looked down to see that a collection of Weasleys had assembled while they were playing, who were cheering Cass’ success. Cass flew down to her waiting fans, stopping just short of the ground, and leaping into Ron’s arms. Harry and Draco stayed, hovering, watching it all. “She loves them,” Draco observed bemusedly, watching as Cass hugged each Weasley in turn. “She’s only just met them.”

“That’s Cass,” Harry said with a shrug. “She goes with her gut, and she instinctively knows when to trust people. It also doesn’t hurt that she knows that they’ve been the only family I ever had, except for Minerva.”

“This was amazing, Harry. Thank you for letting me share her birthday.”

“Thank you for wanting her,” he answered, and took off towards the ground.

Draco followed more slowly, wondering what Harry meant. There had been something a little wistful in his gaze since the night they’d shared a drink in Draco’s office. When he caught anyone looking, he’d quickly smile, and jump back into the conversation, but something was on his mind. As he neared the ground, he allowed himself to hope, just for a moment, that Harry was also wondering if there could be a future for them. Now that he'd banished his initial anger and hurt, Draco could admit to himself that he'd surrendered his heart to Harry, years ago. He'd done his duty, produced an heir, even built a life with Astoria and Scorpius, but a part of him remained Harry's.

Harry had changed, Draco realized. After the war, he'd been bruised by all of his losses, but remained hopeful, open. He'd had moments of unapologetic joy, and his gaze had been firm, unwavering. This Harry was quicker to drop his gaze, more likely to demure than to fight back. It was as though he'd had his flame diminished a little. Draco was afraid to find out what part he himself had played in dimming that light. Regardless, Draco found that he liked this adult version of Harry. He missed the way Harry's eyes flashed with emotion, and how passionately he'd once defended his convictions, but he wanted to know more about why Harry now held himself back. He didn't understand why Harry's face sometimes shuttered and hardened, but he wanted the opportunity to find out. They'd both grown and changed from the hot-headed young men they once were, but Draco could finally admit to himself that Harry still captivated his attention.

Still, he was acutely aware that time was running out. Draco feared what would happen when Cass’ birthday was over. He knew that Harry had an entire life in Canada, but he wanted them to stay. Draco had passed up on the chance ten years ago, but he was becoming despondent at the idea that he'd miss this chance. If Harry went home now, Draco was pretty sure that he'd be allowed to maintain ties with his daughter, but it wasn't enough. He needed Harry to stay, to give them a second chance. He just didn’t know how to ask. 

And, even if he found the courage to lay his heart bare, to ask Harry to stay for a while, he wasn't sure whether Harry would trust him enough to remain. Long ago, Draco had made fun of Harry’s immense ability to trust and forgive, but he wasn't sure that was true any longer. No matter, he resolved, as he followed the birthday celebration to the dining room, he'd convince Harry to give them a chance. For Cass' sake. For Draco and Harry's sake. He’d figure it out, Draco promised himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Thursday's chapter was a little short, and this one isn't much longer, I'm posting a little Saturday morning bonus. Make sure you haven't missed one, because I think the story would get a bit confusing without them in order! Thanks, as always, for reading, kudo-ing and commenting. 
> 
> ***

After the guests had all departed, and the House elves had completed tidying up, Harry found himself gratefully nursing a fire whiskey on a comfortable sofa. Cass and Scorpius had been persuaded to bed, the novelty of sleeping at Grand-Mère’s the only bargaining tool that had gained their compliance. Astoria had gone home, with a promise to catch up with them the following evening. She’d been neglecting her clients, she’d explained, but looked forward to seeing Harry and Cass soon. Narcissa too, had excused herself to bed, Lucius having been banished shortly after dinner, when his creative explanations of Wizarding history had been deemed too impolitic to allow to continued unchecked. It was just Harry and Draco now, and the silence loomed, uncomfortable.

Harry was just about to excuse himself to his borrowed bed, when Draco said, “Harry?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t like how things are between us.”

Harry’s heart sank. Again. He’d thought that the day had gone well, had hoped that a seeker’s game, and their awkward talk a few nights earlier had begun to thaw their interactions. He braced himself for the inevitable. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Draco looked uncharacteristically ill at ease. “I was unprepared for your return, and the situation was exacerbated by my worry over Scorpius’ health. I didn’t react well to learning about Cass.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry began, but Draco held up a hand.

“I’m not looking for an apology, Harry. We’ve covered that ground. I was merely trying to make sure you understood the context. I hope that you never felt as though I was unhappy to learn about our daughter.”

“Oh. Right, yeah.” Harry watched Draco warily. He wasn’t sure where the conversation was going, which was usually a sign that it was headed in an unpleasant direction

“Honestly, Harry, she’s wonderful. You’ve done a beautiful job in raising her so far.”

“Thank you. I know I didn’t do any of the traditional wizarding culture things. I got her a book when she was little, but when I tried to teach her any of it, she asked a bunch of questions and then laughed at me when I couldn’t answer them.”

“That’s fine. I think we both can admit that some of those old traditions aren’t as important as I used to think they were. I was hoping that I could speak to you about what happens now, though.”

“Alright.” Harry felt himself go rigid with terror. 

“I don’t think I have to tell you that Cass is captivating, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to see her more.”

“Of course,” Harry’s mouth felt as though it was filled with sand.

“I know that England is no longer your home, and I haven’t any right to ask you to stay. I’m just not ready to say goodbye yet.”

“Because you want to get to know Cass better,” Harry said stupidly.

Draco smiled. “Well, yes, among other reasons." His eyes on Harry were warm, which was confusing. "I’ve always regretted the way our relationship ended, Harry, and I’d hoped that we could use this as a chance to get back on friendlier terms.”

“You did?” Harry asked, cursing how vulnerable his voice sounded.

“I think you’re under the misinformation that I walked away from our relationship without a single look back.”

“Didn’t you?” Harry was pleased that he didn’t sound bitter as he asked this, but it was a bit galling that he instead sounded childlike.

“Harry.” Draco rose and sat on the sofa beside him, his eyes grey, and lovely, and a bit sad. “You still believe that our relationship had no effect on me at all? That I didn’t care about you?”

“I think that you stopped hating me. I think that you were able to tolerate, or possibly even enjoy being around me. I think that you cared about me in the way that you care about all of your friends.”

“Oh my gods, Harry, is that really what you think?” Draco’s eyes glistened. He was sitting so close, and this was so much, and if he wasn’t careful, Harry would start believing that this meant something, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t survive a Draco-related heartbreak a second time. Harry shrugged, his eyes darting towards the door, trying to think of a way to end this conversation.

“Harry,” Draco started again. “Please don’t think that you didn’t, that you _don’t_ matter to me. I don’t know what words to use to convince you.” 

He leaned closer, and Harry froze. Before Harry knew what was happening, Draco’s hand gently caressed the back of his neck, and drew him in closer. When his lips covered Harry’s, Harry was surprised to hear a little whimper, and was even more surprised when he realized it had come from him. Draco was still a magnificent kisser. His lips against Harry’s were soft and firm, and he drew Harry’s lower lip between them and sucked, enough to draw Harry’s breath in a gasp. Draco’s tongue crept inside Harry’s mouth, and he tasted of fire whiskey and it was lovely, and so familiar, and for a moment, Harry felt like he’d come home.

Then, he remembered that Draco didn’t want him, and he drew away, his cheeks flushed and his fingers on his lips as if to hold the feeling of Draco’s there. “I…I,” he stammered. “I’m sorry. I can’t-”

Before his stupid mouth got him into more trouble, Harry leapt to his feet and fled to his rooms. As he lay in the darkness, sleep eluding him completely, Harry listened to the sound of his own breathing, and allowed his mind to race. What had happened? Why had Draco kissed him? What did it mean? Draco’s words played over and over. _Please don’t think that you didn’t, that you don’t matter to me._ Harry didn’t want to hope. If he allowed himself to hope, and was disappointed again, he wasn’t sure if he would recover.

The next morning, when he made his way down to breakfast, Draco looked at him carefully. Cass and Scorpius were chattering happily on either side of Lucius, who watched them fondly, interjecting non-sequiturs that had them giggling. Narcissa sat at the opposite end of the table, opening her post, and occasionally redirecting Lucius, when his comments veered in alarming directions. She smiled at Harry. “Good morning, Harry, dear. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, fine, thanks Narcissa,” Harry said, working hard to muster a smile in return.

“Harry,” Draco said evenly, his face revealing nothing, but his eyes warm. Harry managed a nod, and a weak smile. 

He didn’t even notice Cass watching him carefully, until she suddenly said, sharply, “What kiss?”

Harry turned to face her, and found that she was looking directly at him, and her beautiful eyes were hazy, a sure sign that she’d been pilfering his thoughts. “Cassiopeia,” he said warningly. “Stop that immediately.”

“Stop what?” Draco asked.

“Cass is very curious,” Harry said, with a pointed look at his daughter, “and her curiosity occasionally leads her to making unwelcome, intrusive decisions.”

“Well, when the noise of your thoughts wake me up at five in the morning, and you come to breakfast looking scared, I don’t have a choice!” Cass snapped.

“Cassiopeia, enough,” Harry said, in a sharper tone than he’d used on her in a long time.

“But-”

“I will speak to you later. Now, either cease your impolite behaviour or leave this table,” Harry said, in a tone that left no question.

“You never tell me anything!” Cass cried, and threw her napkin onto the table. “Excuse me,” she said to the family at large, and stomped from the room.

“I apologize for her behaviour,” Harry said stiffly.

“What was that about?” Draco asked.

“Cass is an instinctive thought reader. When she’s close to someone, she can read their thoughts, usually if someone is feeling strong emotion. I’ve done quite a bit of work with her, to give her the ability to control it, but sometimes she decides she isn’t getting enough information, and she invades my mind to find out what’s going on.”

“That’s remarkable,” Draco said. “She’s going to be incredibly powerful when she’s an adult.”

“It’s a nuisance,” Harry said shortly. “She does it to try to protect me, which is totally inappropriate. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“We’ll find a way to help channel her good intentions into something less intrusive,” Draco said. Harry allowed himself a moment to bask in the idea that he wasn’t doing this on his own, that Draco and he would parent Cass together. Then, he willed his disobedient hopes back in check, and took a sip of tea.

It was another worry, on top of his already churning thoughts. He adored his daughter, and was incredibly proud of her, but he feared that he allowed her too much latitude, treated her too much like an adult. It caused him to question everything about the way he’d parented her so far. He bit his lip, and cast a glance at the doorway through which his daughter had stormed. “Harry,” Draco said softly. “Go ahead. Go talk to her.”

“I’m sorry, we’re being so rude,” Harry replied, but he was tempted.

“Harry, dear, if I had a galleon for every time Draco left the breakfast table in a temper,” Narcissa said with a laugh. “And every time, he was just waiting for someone to come after him and tell him that it was alright. She’s reaching a difficult age, and her emotions are likely to surface more frequently. She’s upstairs, by herself, struggling with, if my guess is correct, anger, and guilt, and embarrassment at being caught out. She needs her dad.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Harry said gratefully, and practically ran to the room Cass had slept in. He knocked on the door, and after a tense moment, heard Cass huffily invite him in. She was sitting on the floor, her arms around her knees. She’d been crying, and her curls were hanging in her face. She looked so uncertain, and angry, that she immediately reminded him of a much younger Draco. “Hey there,” he said, sitting next to her.

“I’m mad at you.”

“I can see that. Do you want to tell me why?”

“You embarrassed me!” Her voice rose as she continued, “You didn’t have to say that stuff in front of everyone.”

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t asked me a very personal question about my thoughts. We’ve talked about this before. Your abilities give you an unfair advantage over other people. It’s very rude to share something you’ve learned at the breakfast table.”

“But-”

“You know that I don’t like it when you look at my thoughts. I know that you feel like I keep things to myself, and I respect your opinion, but this isn’t the way to get me to open up more. Imagine if I read your diary without permission, and then told your family something private. I was embarrassed as well, Cass. Listen to me carefully, sweetheart,” Harry said, putting his arm around his daughter, and bringing his face in closer to hers. “I know that you’re absolutely convinced that what you’re doing is okay, because you’re doing it for the right reasons. And I love that you care so much about me, I do. But you have to trust me on this. It isn’t right to read someone’s thoughts without their permission. And, it hurts my feelings especially, because, growing up, I had a lot of people who allowed me to be put in danger, and hurt because they felt that there was a really good reason for it. It makes me feel like I don’t matter, like my wishes aren’t important.”

Cass again tried to say something, but Harry squeezed her arm gently. “Just let me finish, Cass, and I’ll listen to what you have to say. Voldemort, the bad wizard? He could look at my thoughts. And sometimes he used that to hurt me, or to hurt other people that I cared about. And so even though you do these things with the best intentions, it is incredibly painful for me when you do it. So I’ll ask you, one more time, please, allow me my own thoughts.”

Cass burst into tears. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that before? Am I like _him_?”

“No, darling. You aren’t like him. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to be ashamed of something that you’re able to do. The only reason I told you now is because I needed you to understand why it’s so upsetting for me.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Cass threw her arms around Harry’s neck.

“I know you are. Thank you for understanding.”

“Now, are you going to tell me about that kiss?”

“Absolutely not.”

Cass’ apology to the Malfoys was heartfelt, and graciously accepted, and it wasn’t long before Draco, holding Scorpius, and Harry, leading Cass, were making their way through the floo to Draco’s. 

Harry tugged on one of Cass’ curls as she bounced through the living room. “Got a second?”

“Sure.”

“Your birthday is over, and so we need to decide what happens now. Scorpius is, thank Merlin, all better, so we don’t have to stay, but I wanted to know what you'd like.” Cass bit her lip, in such a Harry-esque gesture that he smiled. “Don’t worry about how I’m going to take the news, just tell me.”

“Dad, I want to stay a bit longer. I want to spend more time with Papa and Scorpius, and I want to go to the Weasleys’, and…I’m not ready for it all to be over.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “It’s fine. I wasn’t kidding about having to go back and settle some things. We left in a bit of a hurry, and I need to make sure the house is still standing and find someone to take care of it, finish a few wands that I’ve promised to clients. Would you be willing to be here on your own for a little bit?”

“I think so. Will you write me?”

“Just try and stop me. And we'll floo call every day.”

“Thanks Dad. I know you wanted to go home a while ago.”

“I did,” Harry said cautiously, “but maybe I’ve had a bit of a change of heart. I feel like your Papa and I are getting along better now. Speaking of, I should go and make sure Papa is okay with you being here for a bit.”

Draco was in the dining room, trying to persuade Scorpius to eat. “Harry,” he said, his eyes warming, and a little smile crossing his lips. “You look like you’re on a mission.”

Harry laughed. “A bit of one. Do you have a second?”

“Of course. Scorpius, three more bites before you leave the table. Alright?”

“Not hungry, Papa!”

“I know. Eat them anyway. Kattie?” Draco called.

The house elf popped into the room. “Yes Master Draco?”

“Could you keep an eye on Scorpius? Three bites, please, before he gets down.”

“Of course, Master Draco. And Master Draco was getting an owl this morning. Kattie has put the papers on your desk.”

“Thanks Kattie.”

Draco followed Harry into the hallway, and looked at him expectantly. Harry smiled. “I’ve been speaking with Cass, and she’s not ready to go home to Canada. She’d like to stay a bit longer, if that was okay.”

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask. I’m delighted we’ll get to have her for longer.” Draco stayed silent for a while longer, and then, seemingly in spite of himself, asked, “And you, Harry? Are you staying?”

“Um, yeah, I think. I mean, I have to go home for a bit, sort things out, but I thought I’d maybe…come back? If you…”

Harry could have sworn that Draco looked relieved. “Oh, yes, that’s fine. Good.” He looked uncertain for a moment, and then took a breath, and said, “Better than good. I’d…hoped…that we could get to know one another again. I meant what I said last night. I don’t think I ever got over you.”

Despite all of his efforts, Harry couldn’t help but feeling hope swirling around his chest, like tiny bubbles. He noticed that he was staring at Draco’s lips, and forced his eyes away. He could feel the blush rising on his cheeks, and decided to attempt to be just the slightest bit cool. “Er, yeah.” He cleared his throat, and repeated, “Yeah, I’d like that. So…I guess I should call a Portkey broker. Do you mind if I use your floo?”

“Yes, of course. Use the one in my office, it’s quieter,” Draco said. He looked away, then looked back and gave Harry a little smile, and his eyes flared with something that looked suspiciously like lust, just for a moment. Harry, a little overwhelmed, ducked his head and made his way to Draco’s office, where he slumped into Draco’s desk chair and tried to catch his breath.

As his thoughts churned, Harry struggled to interpret what was happening. He didn’t think there was any doubt that Draco wanted him to stay longer. He was nearly positive that the flash of grey eyes, the way his pupils dilated was a sure sign that Draco was still attracted to him. Could it be possible that Draco wanted Harry? Properly wanted him?

With a groan, Harry slumped onto the desk, scrubbed his hair out of his eyes. And that was when he saw the document that sat on Draco’s desk blotter.

_Petition for Involuntary Seizure of Custody._

_Petitioner: Draco Lucius Malfoy_  
Current Custodial Parent: Harry James Potter  
Minor: Cassiopeia Narcissa Potter 

The remaining words blurred on the page as Harry’s vision swam. Nausea rose in his belly as he sat, shocked, his entire body going cold. It was happening again. It had been a trick. Draco didn’t want him. He was taking Harry's daughter. Everything he feared was coming true. Harry felt the exact moment when a fissure formed in his consciousness. He was splitting in two. He was breaking apart. He had to get somewhere safe. He had to pull himself together enough so that he could get away. He could shatter completely as soon as he knew that his daughter was safe, and happy, and he was far away from her. His panic rose, and he knew that he had very little time to manage this situation, before the shock wore off and he was unable to function.

Whatever self-preservation instincts he’d honed as a child, Harry was grateful for them now as he managed to force his body to stand, and move through Draco’s home. He found himself in his bedroom. _Good_ , he thought. _That’s good, Potter. Gather your things._ He obeyed the voice in his head without question. It had rarely steered him wrong in the past. Once he had his things together, he detachedly wondered what should happen next. _Go, say goodbye to Cass. Tell her you got a last-minute portkey, and that you’re going to take care of things at home. Tell her you’ll write her every day._

Harry saw no flaw in these instructions as well, so he did so, hoping that Cass thought he was distracted because of the rush to catch his portkey. Just like he’d done as a child, when teachers or other adults asked too many questions about things at home, he managed to answer Cass’ questions coherently, while a large portion of his mind wailed in terror at being found out. He was nearly out of her room when the voice in his mind said, _wait. This is the last time you’ll see her. Kiss her goodbye. You’ll want this memory._ Nodding to himself, Harry returned to where his daughter was sitting on her bed, watching him thoughtfully. He pulled her into a tight hug, stroked her curls, kissed her forehead. “I love you, little duck,” he said.

“I love you too, Dad,” she said. _Time to go_ , the mind voice instructed. Yes, right, good. He returned to Draco’s office, and collapsed into the desk chair. _Nearly there_ , his mind chanted. _Keep going_.

He considered writing a letter to Draco, but was unable to find anything to say. There _was_ nothing to say. Realizing this, he instead gripped the quill, dipped it into the ink vial, and, turning to the last page of the custody petition, signed his name with a flourish and left it there for Draco to discover.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally got a chance to respond to comments, and they were all so lovely, and honestly, I think everyone is about to lose patience with me completely because I just keep DOING THINGS to these poor men. And I'm sorry. And I'm especially sorry because we've still a few chapters to go and things are going to continue to not be awesome for a bit.
> 
> So I'm sorry. Truly. I swear though, if you've stuck with me this long, I really hope that you'll stick with me to the end, because this is a shitty place to abandon the story, and your trust will hopefully fully pay off. But yeah. 
> 
> So, in order to avoid making those of you who have been commenting faithfully not have a freaking HEART FAILURE, I'm posting today, and I'll try to get the next chapter up over the weekend, and then one more early next week. I can't bear to make you all wait too long for a resolution.
> 
> ****

Cass wasn’t sure, looking back, when she first started to suspect that her Dad wouldn’t be returning from Canada in a week or two. The idea, at first, was stupid. Her Dad _always_ came back. In fact, he’d never really left her, not in all the years she’d been alive. So she wasn’t sure why her instincts were alert, watching for something undefinable. For the first few days after the strange thought came to her, she dismissed it as nothing, but something about the way her Dad’s jaw was set when he said goodbye made her uneasy.

Astoria was around, often, and on more than one occasion, Cass entered a room, only to see Astoria and Papa speaking in low tones, with serious faces, only to abruptly stop talking and paste tense smiles on their faces when they saw her.

Then the package from Dad arrived. It was delivered by four owls, international ones, all of them looking exhausted and cross. She unpacked it to find a laptop, and Uncle Professor’s portrait. The attached letter, which she read three times in a row, said that her Dad wanted to be able to email her, rather than wait for owl post. The laptop had been charmed to work around magic, and she’d been asking for one for a while, but Dad had always refused, saying that the last thing he needed was more opportunities for Cass to stay locked in her room reading. He’d sent her Uncle Professor to ensure that she didn’t get lonely.

Papa helped her to start up the laptop, and navigate to the email. “I’ll just leave you to read your email in private,” he said, and Cass looked carefully at him. She could feel a prickle in her forehead that meant she’d scrunched her eyebrows together into her thinking face. Papa was uncomfortable. Something had happened, something between her fathers.

“Don’t you want to see if he’s written something to you?” She kept her voice mild.

“No, that’s fine, cheri. I have some things to take care of. I’ll give you my email address later, and you can share it with your Dad. He’ll email me directly if he needs anything.” Cass struggled to remember the word for how Papa was being. Evasive. Any doubt she’d had that she was overreacting disappeared. Something was wrong.

There was one email in her inbox, and it was clearly from her dad.

_To: casspott@hotmail.com  
From: harrpott@hotmail.com_

_Re: Miss you_

_Hello my sweet girl,_

_I’m back in Canada, and you’ll be pleased to know that our house is still standing, and I’ve learned an important lesson about cleaning out the fridge before leaving the country. I’ve been keeping very busy with work, but the house is quiet without you._

_I know that I said I’d be back in a week or so, but some unexpected events are going to keep me away from you a little longer. I know that this is going to make you worry, and you’ll use every bit of that clever mind of yours to try to figure out what’s going on. I promise to tell you, and soon, but it’s a little bit difficult to talk about at the moment, and I need some time._

_I’ll give you the short version now though, because I know what your imagination is like, and if I don’t, you’ll only make up increasingly dire explanations. Going back to England made me remember a lot of the more difficult times in my life, and brought up some feelings and memories that I didn’t expect. I’m going to need some time to work through them, so that I can be the kind of Dad you deserve._

_I know that your first instinct will be to order your Papa to get you the next Portkey so that you can come and help me, but I don’t think that’s a good idea, not right now. Do you remember when we took the airplane to Florida, and they said that that if the oxygen masks fall out of the ceiling, to put your own mask on before helping other people with theirs? That’s what I’m doing right now. I need to spend a little bit of time on my own, and then I’ll be back to being your same old Dad. Who knows, maybe even a better version…one who doesn’t leave dirty socks in the living room._

_I’ll write to you as often as I possibly can, my heart, and I’m so sorry to be letting you down like this. I hope that you know that I’ve made this decision with an awful lot of thought, and I wouldn’t do something so drastic if I thought that there was any other way. I am thinking about you all the time, and I know that you’ll be safe and loved while I sort myself out._

_I love you so much, my little duck. I am doing this for you, because you deserve a Dad who is able to be there for you without the messy parts of his past getting in the way._

_Love,  
Dad._

Cass read the letter twice, and then set the laptop aside, resting her chin on her knees. She’d suspected that something was wrong, but this was a big something. She realized that for all of his stories, and his open communication, she didn’t really know much about her Dad’s life when he was her age, and during school. She wanted to help him, but for the first time ever, she thought that maybe she couldn’t. Maybe this was too big. She needed to trust her Dad, just like he’d asked her to.

But. It didn’t mean that she didn’t feel lonely, and sad. She wished that they’d never come to England. And now, she was trapped here, because her Dad obviously couldn’t take her back, not if he needed to be alone to think. She loved her family here, Scorp was a lot of fun, and Astoria was like a big sister, and her Papa was nice, even if he was completely different from Dad. Dad was open and friendly, and threw himself into everything as hard as he could, while Papa was…not. He was kind, and smart, but Cass sometimes felt like he had an invisible bubble around him that prevented anyone from getting too close. He was a bit more unguarded around Scorpius, but was very careful around Cass. 

Everything was different here. She found herself wishing that her Dad’s parents were still alive, or that he had a brother or sister. Someone who knew him as well as she did, someone who was familiar. She wondered if this is what it had been like for her Dad, growing up. She knew that he wasn’t on speaking terms with the Aunt and Uncle who raised him, but didn’t know why, only that they weren’t magical, and it had caused distance. Had her Dad felt like this? As though he were apart from everyone else?

Cass allowed that if he _had_ felt like that, it explained a lot about why coming home would be hard for him. Suddenly, she realized, that although her Dad didn’t have Family, that didn’t mean that he didn’t have _family_. She went off in search of her Papa, finally finding him in his office.

“My Dad’s not coming back. Not right away. Did you know?” She didn’t know how else to start the conversation, so she just jumped in, like she would have done with her Dad. She’d figure out how to talk to Papa later.

Papa looked a bit startled at her directness. “Oh, yes. Well, no, not exactly, but I suspected.”

“So you’re not speaking with him?”

“No.” 

Cass waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. She sighed. This was frustrating. It was like learning a new language. “I’m not sure if he even asked you if it was alright. If I could stay here for a while.”

“Oh, Cass, darling. He didn’t have to ask. Of course it’s alright. More than. I’m delighted to have you here.” He looked a bit shamefaced. “I should have said something, I’m sorry. I’m not accustomed to having an older child, but of course I should have known you’d be wondering.”

Cass waited. Here’s the part where her Dad would ask her if she was doing okay. If she was lonely. What her number was. But of course, Papa didn’t know about the numbers. And, it seemed, that fancy people like the Malfoys didn’t talk much about feelings. Rather than wait around for him to figure it out, she decided to fix things for herself. “I’m a bit lonely for my Dad. And since I can’t see him, I was hoping I could see someone who loved him.” This seemed to make Papa look sad, but Cass was getting tired of trying to figure out what was going on with these people who never seemed to say what they were feeling. “Could I visit my Auntie Hermione?”

Papa thought about this for a moment, and said, “I don’t see why not. It’s Sunday, and I know that the family usually all gets together for Sunday dinner. Would you like me to see if you could go?”

It was all arranged very quickly. Papa made a few floo calls, and then, before she knew it, he was holding her hand tightly and stepping through the floo as he called, “The Burrow.” 

She knew that there were a lot of Weasleys. They’d been to her birthday, after all, and she’d done a headcount then. But somehow, crammed into the cluttered, tight space of the Burrow, there seemed to be _more_ of them. Or maybe they'd just been on their best behaviour at Malfoy Manor. They were just so _loud_! It was a lot different from the quiet little house she’d grown up in, where it was just Cass, and Dad, and sometimes Uncle Professor. She watched the proceedings for a few moments, wide-eyed, before Hermione spotted her, and stepped carefully through the people to her side.

“You’ve got the same look that Harry used to get sometimes,” she said. “He found it a little overwhelming, despite how much he loved us all, and usually, he and I would go outside and sit in the tree swing. Would you like to do that with me now?”

Cass nodded, and they picked their way back across the room, stopping a few times as Grandfather Arthur gave her a hug, and Uncle George wanted to show her something. Fortunately, Hermione rescued her from whatever ‘something’ it was, and soon they were outside in the fresh air. Auntie Hermione cast an efficient warming charm, and they settled into the swing. As she pushed it with her feet, they swayed back and forth. It was nice, and Cass was relieved to be with someone who felt restful, similar to how Dad was.

“How is it, spending time with your Papa?”

“Good,” Cass said. “Okay,” she amended. “I miss my Dad, though. He’s not coming back when he said he would.”

“I got an email from him yesterday, saying as much. He needs some time, he said. He asked me to keep an eye out for you.”

That made Cass feel a little better. At least he hadn’t forgotten about her. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Auntie Hermione hesitated. “I’m not sure, honestly. I know that he loves you more than anyone, and if he’s not able to be here with you, it means that things aren’t great.” Cass was glad that she was being honest. If she’d said something like ‘I’m sure he’s fine’, Cass wouldn’t have believed her. 

“I just wish I knew what was wrong. I wish I could help him.”

Hermione laughed, but it was a sad kind of laugh. “I’ve been saying that for eighteen years. Your Dad has been my best friend since I was eleven years old. Your Uncle Ron, Harry and I, through thick and thin. Even when he went away, I worried about him, tried to find him.” She looked at Cass, and her brown eyes were kind. “How much do you know about your Dad’s life before you?”

“Not much,” Cass admitted. “I mean, I know all the big stuff, like his parents, and that he grew up Muggle. And the bad wizard, and that there was a war. But never about what those things were _like_ , you know? Like he’d tell me about you and him in a tent during the war, fighting over which one of you had to eat tinned sardines, but he’d never say why you were in a tent in the first place, and whether he was scared, or anything.”

Hermione laughed. “Oh those sardines. I don’t think I’ve eaten fish of any sort since then. But that’s a good observation, about your Dad’s stories. He tells the stories, and leaves out the context, the impact. It’s always been that way. Your dad didn’t have an easy time while he lived in England, quite the opposite, really. Even still, I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen him cry, in all the years I’ve known him. I think that Harry has a lot of loss and pain that he has been suppressing. I don’t think it’s a bad thing that he’s working through them.”

“If that’s what he’s doing,” Cass said.

“What do you mean?”

“The timing is weird. He and I talked on the morning that he left, and we agreed that we’d stay in England for a while. He was fine then. He went to arrange a portkey, and something happened. He was different, when he came to say goodbye to me.”

“Different how?”

“Like he was thinking about something else. His eyes were funny. I can’t explain it, and I’d _just_ promised not to look at his mind anymore, so I couldn’t even peek. It was like he was afraid, or something, like he just needed to get away before he…I dunno, freaked out or something.” Cass let out a big breath, which made her curls whoosh away from her forehead. “I dunno, maybe he’s fine. He sent me a laptop, and promised to email me every day. I just have a funny feeling.”

“Did you ask your Papa?”

“You can’t ask him anything! I feel like Papa and Grand-Mère both answer my questions, but they’re talking in riddles or something. I never understand what they mean.”

“I could see that. Well, I’m not sure if it will make you feel better, but maybe something happened that made Harry realize he needed to address some things. It might be good for him.”

Cass didn’t answer, and she tried to put it out of her mind, but she couldn’t, not completely. When she got home, she opened her laptop, and typed an email:

_From: CassPott@hotmail.com  
To: HarrPott@hotmail.com_

_Re: Re: Miss you_

_Hi Dad;_

_Went to the Burrow today. I liked it, but it made me miss you. I don’t understand what happened to make you need to stay in Canada, but I love you, and if you need the time, that’s ok. Are you talking to people? You aren’t just staying in your shed working the whole time, right?_

_What’s your number? Mine is a 5. I’m doing okay, but I’d be better with a Dad hug._

_Love,Cass_

The reply she awoke to was heartening, if short:

_From: HarrPott@hotmail.com  
To: CassPott@hotmail.com_

_Re:Re:Re: Miss you_

_Good morning pumpkin._

_It was good to hear from you. I miss you too, more than I even imagined I would, although I’m happy that you’re spending time with the Weasleys. Not quite ready to discuss what’s going on, but I’m working on it. I am talking to people. I went to the school and had a good chat with Sarah yesterday. I am working a lot, but am taking on a lot fewer commissions at the moment, to free myself up. I’m hopeful to return to you as soon as I can._

_Sending you a hug across the Atlantic._

_Love,Dad._

At breakfast, Cass was surprised when Papa said, “I’d like to introduce you to Scorpius’ tutor today. If you’re going to be here for some time, we can’t ignore your education, and I wanted you to have some choices. If you’d rather go to a local school, we can arrange that, although it might be harder to adjust to a different educational program. Homeschooling is quite common amongst wizarding families, so I thought you could see if you liked Bertram, and we could discuss.”

“Oh,” Cass said. “Yeah, sure. I sort of forgot about school, but yeah, I don’t want to fall behind. It’s been strange, it feels like holidays.” Something occurred to her. “Papa, do you have a job? I’ve just realized that Astoria goes out to work, but you’re home almost always.”

Papa smiled. “Yes, I have two jobs. Three, if you count being a Father, I suppose. I’m fortunate that I can do most of my work from my office here. Primarily, I manage the Malfoy holdings, which are a bit complicated, and take up a lot of my attention. I’m formally trained as a cursebreaker, and so from time to time, I take on projects, either from Gringotts, or from families who have cursed objects.”

“Do you like it?”

“Mostly,” Draco said. “When Astoria and I married, we wanted a child very much, and Astoria has always wanted to be a lawyer, so we agreed that I’d need to work in a role that allowed me to stay home. So I like the flexibility, and the curse breaking is quite fun.”

“So, this tutor…”

“Bertram Higgs, yes. He’s been working with Scorpius for a little over a year now. I think you’ll like him.”

“What’s it like, having a tutor? I went to a normal Muggle school at home.”

“It’s different, I’m sure. Obviously, I never attended a Muggle school, but a tutor will work with you on subjects that interest you, tailor the learning to what you want to focus on. Of course, he’ll make sure that you have the fundamentals covered, language, arithmancy, that sort of thing, but Bertram would be qualified to instruct on anything from Pureblood magical rituals to Defense.”

“But what about my normal school?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my favourite subjects are math and science. Muggle subjects. Would he be able to teach me those?”

“Oh.” Draco looked startled for a moment. “I’m not sure, we’ll have to ask him. Maybe we could find a Muggleborn Tutor for you.”

“Or a Muggle.”

Draco gave Cass a look of pure incomprehension. “I don’t know how that would even work. We’ve never had a Muggle visit the house before. We’d need to disillusion quite a few magical things.”

“Oh,” Cass said. “It’s okay, I guess. Maybe I could find a Muggle bookstore, and get some workbooks or something.” She hadn’t really thought about it before, but she suddenly realized that, if she went to a magical school, she wouldn’t be learning her favourite subjects any longer. She wanted to learn about magic, she always had, but she hadn’t previously thought about what she’d be giving up to do so. Again, her thoughts returned to her Dad. Was it hard for him to suddenly jump into the magical world like he had? Cass thought that she'd be scared, but Dad was brave.

“No, Cass, if there are subjects that interest you, we’ll certainly find you a teacher.” Papa’s face was serious. “Darling, I know that a lot of things have changed for you, in a very short time, and you haven’t asked for any of them. I’m very lucky to get to spend time with you, to get to know you, but I want you to have all of the same opportunities you would have had if you were still in Canada. I want to give you everything, Cass. If there’s anything you want, or need, you only have to ask.” 

_I want my dad_ , Cass thought, but she smiled at her Papa anyway.

“Maybe Auntie Hermione would know of a Muggle tutor who could help round out your education,” Papa continued. “I’ll owl her later.”

“Can you ask her if she’s heard from my Dad?”

“Of course. Have you not?”

“No, I have. It’s just that his emails are short, and he isn’t saying anything. I think that something’s wrong.”

“What makes you say that?” Papa looked away as he asked this, Cass noticed. Like he was afraid what she’d see if she looked in his eyes. 

Cass shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel it. My Dad wouldn’t leave me like this. Not unless things were bad. Like, really bad. One time, he got hurt in his shop. A tool slipped and he cut his hand open. He showed up to pick me up from school with a towel wrapped around it, dripping in blood, because he didn’t want me to get scared if he wasn't there when school was over. And the secretary is like, one of his best friends. He could have left me there with her, but he came, because he didn’t want me to think he had forgotten me. He needed fifteen stitches, Papa, but he dragged his stupid, bloody self to pick me up.” Papa was watching her closely now. He looked mad, but Cass knew he wasn’t. He was just thinking hard. “I don’t think he’s okay. I don’t know what happened before he left, but he wasn’t normal.”

Papa didn’t say much after that, but he looked like he was considering it. Maybe he’d help. Cass wasn’t sure though, and it didn’t do anything to stop her from feeling scared.

The Tutor was fine. He was young, and friendly, and his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, just like Dad’s. He didn’t know anything about math or science, though. Cass didn’t want to upset her Papa, so she just smiled, and said that she didn’t mind about the Muggle school, and she’d be happy to learn from Bertram. 

Her days became routine, and lengthened into weeks, and she and Scorpius did lessons, and visited the Manor, and went to Diagon with Papa and Astoria. But still, Cass worried about her Dad. His emails were short, usually just one line, but they kept coming, even if they got further and further apart, and Cass’ stomach would hurt until the next one came.

Her Papa listened when she talked about it, but he didn’t offer to help. It made her feel lonely. Papa was good at making sure she ate enough, and did her lessons, and he brought her books and potions ingredients, once she learned that she was good at brewing them. He would patiently explain the new things she was learning, and tell marvellous stories about his childhood, and listen eagerly when she told him her own stories. But he never asked how she was doing. He didn’t notice when she needed a hug, the way her Dad did. And even though she was getting more and more worried about her Dad, he never, ever brought up the subject. She started talking about it more, to see if he’d give something away, but every time it was the same. His face would grow stiff, like a mask, and his tone would become clipped, and distant. 

Cass watched, and listened, and learned, and finally decided that enough was enough. She counted back in her head, and realized that it had been five days since she’d heard from Dad. And Papa was never going to help her unless she forced him to. She waited until she knew that Papa was tucking Scorpius in, and with a few minutes to spare before he came to check on her, she set the scene. At first, she considered the pathos of hiding in her closet, but it was too much of a slap at her dignity. Very well. Thrown across the bed, then. She artfully arranged her limbs, and concentrated. At first, it was difficult to muster any tears at all. Cass simply wasn’t much of a crier. She thought of the saddest things she could, and found, to her surprise, the moment she thought about how much she missed her Dad, the tears came of their own accord. She’d been holding herself together, because she hadn’t seen another choice, but the moment she gave in to her loneliness and worry, it was like unstoppering a vial. Cass wept, and the tears felt good. 

It wasn’t long before she felt a hand on her back. “Cass? Cheri, what’s the matter?”

“I miss my Daddy,” she sobbed, and found herself a little surprised that this wasn’t an act after all. “I don’t know why he’d leave me, and I think he’s hurting, and nobody cares.” She felt a little alarmed that the words were true, and her worry turned into fear. 

“That’s not true, Cass. I care.”

“You don’t! You never talk about him, and there’s something going on, and you won’t tell me. You don’t even care that I’m worried and lonely!”

“Oh, Cass,” Draco said, and Cass felt herself being gathered into strong arms. Different from Dad’s, but not uncomfortable. “Darling, I didn’t know. You’re very self-possessed. I should have known, though. Of course you wouldn’t let anyone see. You come by it honestly, I suppose.”

“Don’t,” she howled, even as she suspected that she was losing control of her emotions a little. “Don’t say anything about my Daddy! He’s good, and he does his best, and he loves me. Even…even if…”. The tears took over, and she couldn’t speak, even if she wanted to.

Papa shushed her, and stroked her hair. “Even if what, dear one?”

“Even if he doesn’t want me anymore,” she whispered, and a fresh storm of sobs took over. She’d tried not to think it, and certainly hadn’t said it, but admitting that her Dad had so easily left her with a near-stranger hurt more than she could say.

“Darling,” Papa said, and his voice sounded so hurt that she looked up. His pretty grey eyes were filled with tears. “Darling, no. That’s not true.”

“It is, though,” she argued. “He told me I was the most important person in the world, but he just left me. The minute that there was someone else who could take me.”

“That’s my fault,” Papa said, in a broken, strange voice, after the silence stretched between them. “Not your Dad’s.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Did you Dad ever tell you what it was like for him, when he was small?”

Cass shook her head. “He said he lived with his Aunt and Uncle, and that he didn’t know he was a Wizard until Hogwarts.”

“That’s true,” Papa said, “but he likely didn’t tell you that they weren’t kind to him. Not at all. They hated magic, and they hated Harry’s parents, and so that meant that they hated him too.”

Cass didn’t know what to think about that. She couldn’t understand how anyone could hate her Dad, and she especially couldn’t understand why someone would adopt a child that they didn’t love. Papa continued, “When you’re little, and someone makes you feel like you aren’t good enough, it stays with you. It makes you insecure. And your Dad never could see how amazing he was. So, when he found out about you, he was afraid that people wouldn’t let him keep you. He thought that my family and I would insist that we raise you.”

“Would you have?”

Papa sighed. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I wouldn’t have wanted him to take you away completely. I can’t say how things would have been different, but I think I would have wanted to share you, at least.”

“Why did he think that you wouldn’t let him share?”

“My family was once very influential, and my Father…he had some strange ideas about what it meant to be a proper Wizard. For a number of reasons, your Dad was the sort of person he didn’t approve of. If he’d not gone a bit silly, he likely would have wanted to take you away from your Dad’s influence.”

“But didn’t my Dad help win the war?”

“Yes. He did. But, darling, my parents didn’t.”

“They were on the bad side?”

“They were. And so was I.”

Cass looked at her Papa in horror. “You hated Muggles? You thought that people like my Dad and my Grandma should be dead?”

“At one time, I’m ashamed to say that I did. There’s no excuse for it, none at all. I’ll never be able to tell you how wrong I was.”

“Why did my Dad fall in love with you? If you hated him, and fought along with the man who wanted to kill him?”

Papa looked even sadder. “Because your Dad is the most forgiving person I’ve ever met. He always saw the best in people. We can talk more about that after, but I’m trying to explain something about your Dad, and it’s important that you understand this.”

“Alright.” Cass had about a million more questions, but she wanted to know why her Papa thought that her Dad had left.

“When your Dad brought you back to England, I was very upset. I was hurt that he’d left, and angry that he hadn’t told me about you. The day that I saw you both at Hogwarts, I told him that I would sue him for full custody of you.”

“I remember.”

“I’m someone who is quick to anger, Cass. When my feelings are hurt, I react defensively. We got home that night, and all I could think about was how Harry had taken away my chance to watch you grow up. I came home, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I owled my solicitor that night, and asked him to draw up the papers so that I could sue him, and take you back.”

“You did? Why didn’t you ask me what I wanted?”

“It’s not like that, Cass. In the morning, I woke up with a cooler head, and I had changed my mind. The lawsuit didn’t enter my mind again. I focused on getting to know you, and making sure that Scorpius got better. I didn’t even think to tell the solicitor to stop working on it, and I completely forgot what I had said until some time later, when Harry brought it up. When he did, I told him that I had no intention of proceeding with it.”

“So why-”

“On the night that Harry left, he went into my office to arrange his portkey. He and I had discussed him staying here in England, working to put our past behind us. I was hoping…well, never mind that. What I didn’t realize until after, was that my solicitor had sent me the custody paperwork, and one of the elves had left it on my desk.”

“Oh no.”

“Yes. Your dad saw the paperwork, and I’m sure that he thought that I’d been trying to trick him all along. I don’t know for sure how that made him feel, but I have a good idea. I think that he was already afraid that he wasn’t doing a good job as your parent, and when he concluded that I planned to sue you, he signed the papers, and he left.”

“And you just let him go? You let him think that we don’t want him? You let me think he didn’t want me?” Cass was furious. How could she be left out of something so important?

“Cass, I tried. I’ve tried writing him letters, floo calling, I sent him a letter in the Muggle mail. He isn’t answering any of them. I even tried to get Minerva to speak to him. He told her he just needed time. He said he was fine.”

“You’re an idiot,” Cass said flatly. “You tell yourself that because it’s easier. Don’t you understand? He has nobody now!”

“Maybe that’s what he wants.”

“I’m going,” Cass said. She jumped to her feet and started throwing things into a bag.

“No, you aren’t. Cass, I know your Dad has let you make a lot of decisions for yourself, but you’re ten years old. You’re not going.”

“I am. Either help me, or leave me alone.”

“Cass, I don’t think-”

“Papa. You screwed up. My Dad is alone, and he thinks that you tricked him into taking me away. I’m going to him, whether you help me or not.”

“Cassiopeia, you’re ten years old, and if you think for a second-”

“Enough!” Cass didn’t mean to shout, but she was frightened, and upset, and she wasn’t used to people who didn’t _listen_. “You don’t know what I can do. I will be going home today. You can’t stop me.”

“Young lady!” Papa was shouting now too. “How dare you speak to your Father that way!”

“How dare you!” Cass could feel her magic rising up around her. For a tiny moment, she considered doing what Dad had shown her. Take a breath, feel it dissipate. Count your breaths. Stay in the moment. Then, she thought about her Dad, all alone and feeling like he wasn’t a good enough Dad, and she welcomed the way the magic completely overwhelmed her. As the squeezy, awful feeling of disapparation rippled through her body, she unleashed every part of herself to embrace it.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry heard a noise, and it was as though a separate, detached part of his brain was registering it. Noises didn’t matter anymore. Darkness mattered, and Blanket, and Safe. Harry absently registered the sound of talking, and frowned. He didn’t like when he heard voices. They made him cry, and Harry wasn’t allowed to cry. He burrowed deeper into Blanket, making sure that his head was covered. It wouldn’t be long before the voices would go away. They always did, just like the shadows that descended on him with angry, sucking mouths, and the red eyes that lurked in the corner. He waited patiently, but the voices kept making noises.

The voices came closer, and Harry tensed. Why hadn’t they gone away? A few things happened all at once. The voices got louder, and suddenly Darkness was gone, replaced by fierce light that made him squint. He scrabbled backward, trying to get as small as he could in the corner of Safe. He saw something, something that was familiar, but before he could try to figure out what was there, Blanket was torn away from him. He heard a strange wailing noise, and wondered what these things were about to do to him.

Crying wasn’t allowed, but Harry was crying, and so maybe Harry wasn’t allowed. He had lost Darkness, and he had lost Blanket. All he had left was Safe, and so he decided that he would fight to keep it.

Whatever had taken Blanket was moving away, and Harry tried to stop crying, but he was afraid, and he couldn't stop. The voices were louder, but far away. They sounded mad, and whenever a mad voice came into Safe, bad things happened. He curled into a ball, and tucked his head in. This went on for quite some time, and Harry decided he had no choice but to cope with his new circumstances. He’d lost Blanket, and Darkness, but as long as he had Safe, it would be okay. He curled tighter into the corner, and let his thoughts drift. He thought of a little girl, and in his mind, she was beautiful, and her laughter was the best sound he’d ever heard in his life. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to dream her up, but he didn’t need to think about why. Just watch, as the sun played on golden curls.

Abruptly, many things changed again. There were a lot more voices and grabby hands, and he was ripped from Safe and it was bright, and loud, and the opposite of what he needed. Harry was screaming, and screaming was Not Allowed, and Harry had to Focus. He had to Focus, and he had to Get It Together. He wasn’t Getting It Together, though, and he wasn’t Focusing, and then the grabby hands were lifting him, and he heard the familiar voice again, and then it was getting Darker, but it wasn’t Darkness, it was different, and then he didn’t know anything at all.

“Harry?”

“Harry.”

“Harry!”

Harry felt as though his eyes had been glued shut. He struggled to open them, but was assailed by such brightness that he slammed them shut again.

“Try again.” Harry didn’t recognize the voice. He tentatively opened his eyes again, and noted that whoever it was, they’d spelled the lights lower. He blinked myopically and, when he realized that he was lying down, tried to struggle to a seated position. He suddenly realized that he had no idea where he was, that a stranger was talking to him, and he couldn’t remember much from before he was here. He stiffened, and felt a cool hand on his arm. He felt his glasses being placed gently on his face, and though he flinched, at least he could see a bit better. “Harry,” the stranger, a woman, a British woman, he realized, said. “You’re safe.”

Safe…The word triggered a half memory, as though he was viewing it through mist. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a treatment centre.” 

Treatment centre? “What am I being treated for?”

“A number of things. Exhaustion, dehydration, malnutrition, disassociation, and, if I’m not mistaken, post-traumatic stress disorder. We’ll need to confirm that last one, but that will come later.”

“How did I get here?”

“I’ll explain that shortly. Let me fill in some additional information, first. My name is Miriam, and I’m your Healer. You and I will work together to help you get well. At first, we’ll focus on regaining your physical health, but I’m also here to assist you with regaining some emotional strength.”

“I’m plenty strong, emotionally,” Harry protested. “I’m fine.”

“I understand. Let’s focus on the physical priorities first then, and we can reassess. As I mentioned, when you arrived here, you weren’t terribly healthy, and my team and I have been working to help with that. How are you feeling right now?”

“Fine. A bit groggy. Headache?”

“That’s a side effect of some of the potions we’ve been administering. Sometimes, when someone arrives here experiencing the type of confusion and disorientation that you were displaying, it’s more restorative to allow you to sleep. You’ve been in a potion-induced rest for the past week, and we’ve been giving you a number of hydrating and nutritional potions to build you back up. I expect that the headache and grogginess will dissipate once you’ve had a chance to metabolize the last of the potions.”

“A week? I’ve been here a week?”

“You have. I’d like to recommend that you take the opportunity to have a shower, get dressed in something other than pyjamas, and then we’ll speak again. I can outline your treatment plan, and answer any questions you might have.”

Harry couldn’t find any reason to argue, so he took the stack of clothing that was handed to him, and showered. He looked into the mirror and a stranger looked back. His face was thin, and gaunt, and his eyes looked dull. His hair was a lot longer than it had been, and his beard had grown in completely. What had happened?   
There was no razor, and he didn’t have his wand, so he left his facial hair as it was. As he left the bathroom, he saw that Miriam was sitting at a table in the corner, and she smiled widely and gestured him to sit down. She was a tiny woman, Harry guessed that she was in her fifties, and her eyes were very kind. She made Harry feel protected right away, kind of the way that Minerva made him feel.

“I don’t understand how I got here, but I was wondering if I had my laptop with me? If it’s been a week, I think that I’ve neglected to send my daughter an email, and I don’t want her to worry.”

Miriam smiled. “I’m afraid that it’s a little late for that. It was actually your daughter who found you.”

“Found me? What’s happening?”

“Harry, when your emails to your daughter grew briefer and more spaced out, she started to worry. She had, I’m told, a fairly emotional discussion with her other Father, and, when he wouldn’t take her to your home immediately, she spontaneously apparated to the home of one of your friends, the Weasleys, who contacted a private security agent, a fellow named Mister Goyle. Goyle and your daughter then portkeyed back to Canada, where she found you in some distress.”

“Oh no. What do you mean, distress? Why don’t I remember this?”

“You were dissociative. You’d lost connection to reality. Your daughter and Mister Goyle found you in a closet, in the dark, wrapped in a blanket. It was clear that you hadn’t eaten or bathed in a number of days. They contacted emergency services, and they took you to St. Vincent’s Magical Hospital in Toronto. Your immediate condition was stabilized there, and then your next of kin arranged for you to be transferred here.”

“Where’s here? England?”

“Yes, you’re at Hedwig House in Cornwall. It’s a long term care facility for those who are suffering from issues related to the mind.”

“Hmm.” Harry listened to the story with conflicting emotions. At first, he felt stirrings of panic and shame that he’d been discovered in a bad way, and by Cass of all people. But, as more information was shared, he felt like he was listening to someone speaking at the end of a long corridor, and it didn’t really feel like it was about him anymore. He noted that there was a painting of a young girl on the wall. She seemed friendly, in that she was smiling at him, and looking at him with interest.

Suddenly, there was a firm hand on his shoulder and a vial thrust under his nose. “Breathe.” Given that it was a biological imperative, Harry saw no reason to disobey. The smell was pungent, bracing. He blinked, looked closely at the face in front of his. “Well done, Harry. We’ll work with you to develop some coping strategies to help you stay grounded when you start to disassociate in the future. Do you know what triggered it?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. We’ll get there.”

“Is Cass okay?”

“Yes, very much so, although she is quite concerned for you.”

“Wait. Did you say that she was the one who found me? In a cupboard?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh god. Oh no. Poor little duck. Is…is she upset? Can I go to her? I need to make it better!”

“Harry, I’d like you to take three deep breaths for me.”

“I don’t have time for breathing. I have to go. Where’s my wand?” Harry's panic was rising, and he felt his breath coming in short gasps. He had to get to Cass. He couldn't figure out what sort of spell had happened to make him like this, but he needed to make sure that Cass was okay. She was likely frightened, and Harry had screwed up. He'd upset Cass, and he hadn't been there for her and-

“Stop.” Miriam’s voice was firm. “Harry, it would be detrimental to your healing if you were to experience another emotional upset in front of Cass, not to mention the fact that it would be quite distressing for her. Cass is safe, I promise you. Let her other Father care for her, and we’ll focus on caring for you, okay?”

“But I need to be there for her. I can stop all of this, I promise. I’ll keep it together.”

“Harry," Miriam smiled at him, and the kindness of her eyes, and the gentleness of her face was too much. He looked away, ashamed. She placed two fingers on his wrist. "I think that you’ve been keeping it together for a long time now, and your mind and your body are telling you that you need to take care of yourself. I’ve met Cass, she’s wonderful. You’re doing a great job, and I’m certain that, very soon, you’ll be back to continue where you left off.”

“No,” Harry suddenly remembered. The Custody papers. Fleeing back to Canada. The days of crying, and spending hours mustering up the ability to peck out a short email to Cass. The failure. “She’s Draco’s now.”

“Your co-parent explained that there have been some changes lately. It’s okay for you to avoid making any final decisions on that until you feel a little less hopeless. For now, it’s enough to know that Cass is safe, and very much loved, as are you.” He must have made a face, because Miriam laughed. “Oh, Harry, don’t doubt that you’re well-loved. I’ve had messages from five separate members of the Weasley family this morning alone, as well as a floo call from Minerva McGonagall, and Draco and Cass have spoken to me several times each day since you arrived. I’ve also spoken to a Ms. Lovegood and a Mister Longbottom, who also send their love.”

Harry felt tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t deserve their concern. He’d let them all down, run away again, abandoned his daughter. “Harry, let’s focus on what you can expect here over the next little while.”

It was a lot. Group therapy, individual therapy, occupational therapy. For the first two weeks, he’d be monitored constantly, and be allowed no visitors, no contact with anyone. Then, he’d be assessed, and they would discuss what would happen next. He was under involuntary admission, which meant that he couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t be allowed to use magic at first. At least that explained the strange band he'd noticed around his ankle when showering.

“Well?” Miriam asked, after she’d explained the plans to him. “Are you willing to take this journey with me?”

“I don’t think I have a choice, do I?” Harry was tired, which was ironic, since he’d, apparently, been asleep for a week. 

“Everything is a choice, Harry. You don’t have a choice about whether you can leave at present, because your condition is making it too difficult to take care of yourself. Other than that, you choose everything. You can take this time, and do the hard work, and find strategies to help you manage your condition, or you can choose not to, that’s all up to you. So what do you decide?”

“I want to see Cass,” Harry said. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to, as long as you let me see her. I can’t have her last memory of her Dad be…like that.”

“Like what, Harry?”

Harry glared at her. She was going to further shame him by mocking his failure. “You know.”

“I do. And so do you. But we’re going to name things, together, you and I. We’re going to face them directly. What’s Cass’ last memory of you?”

“I don’t remember.” He knew his voice sounded mulish, but he didn't want to say it.

“What did I tell you it was?”

“This is stupid!”

“Maybe. But if you tell me, then I’ll stop asking you to.”

“Fine. Fine. Her last memory was of me hiding in a cupboard.”

“Excellent, well done, Harry. I think that using a visit with Cass as your motivation will suit our purposes for the short term.”

It would have to do, because that was all Harry had. He didn’t care about anything else.


	13. Chapter 13

Draco stood in his closet, wearing only pants, mired in indecision. _Stop being stupid_ , he told himself. _It doesn’t matter what you wear._ Only it _did_ matter. Clothes had always been an armour of sorts, and Draco had never felt more in need of protection. He considered a new set of robes that he’d ordered a few weeks ago. Would robes simply underline his insistence on his traditions? A Muggle suit, which he knew looked good, was his next consideration. But who wore a suit to something like this? Finally, he gave up in frustration, and struggled into a pair of skinny denims and a cashmere sweater. It wasn’t something he ever felt comfortable in, but it wouldn’t do to appear as though he’d put too much thought into it.

Finally dressed, he sat on his bed, willing himself to be brave. A knock on his door interrupted his efforts. “Come in,” he said.

Cass peeked around the door. “Are you ready, Papa?” She was practically vibrating with nerves.

“I’m ready. You?” She nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes. “You good, Cass?”

“I’m good, Papa.” The exchange prompted a smile, and she flopped onto the bed next to him. He put his arm around her. Cass was a child who needed hugs, Draco had learned. 

It was not the only thing he’d learned about his daughter in the five months since the terrible day when she’d apparated through his wards and disappeared. Draco had been frantic. He’d called the Aurors, and Hogwarts, and his parents. There’d been no answer at the Weasley-Granger’s, and Draco had been on his knees in front of the floo, his head in his hands, when Molly Weasley had called him. Cass had arrived at the Burrow, upset and furious, but she was safe.

She’d refused to speak to him, and said that if he came through to the Burrow, she’d go somewhere else. She was going to her Dad, whether anyone helped her or not. Draco had begged Molly, tears streaming down his face, to let him through, but she’d extended her hand through the flames and patted his hand. “Draco, dear,” she’d said. “I know how worried you are, but I’ve raised seven children, not including Harry. She needs a little space, and she needs to see that her Dad is okay. Let me get Hermione for you, and you can discuss arrangements.”

After discussing with Hermione, Draco had called Greg, and he’d gone to get Cass immediately. She allowed Draco to meet them at the Portkey office, mostly because she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the country without parental permission. She’d been prickly, and standoffish as they waited for the Portkey, flatly refusing to let Draco come with them. As he’d watched them catch the Portkey, Draco’s heart had been in his throat.

It was several hours later that Greg had floo called. He looked shaken and exhausted. “What’s going on?” Draco had demanded.

“Draco, it’s bad. Harry was…he _is_ in bad shape. Can you come?”

So he had, portkeying to Canada, finding his way to the hospital in Toronto, and finally, finally, being reunited with his daughter. She’d stood in the waiting room when he arrived, her thin arms wrapped around her elbows, not looking at him. “Cass?” His voice had broken at the sight of her, so small and upset. At the raw pain in his voice, she’d finally made eye contact, her eyes red-rimmed. “I’m so sorry, darling.” 

She was so like Harry, standing there, her emotions all over her expression, but trying so hard to keep herself contained. She wouldn’t come to him, he realized, but she desperately needed him to cross the expanse to her. He slowly approached, and her eyes were wary. He’d asked, “Can I hug you, Darling?” Stiffly, she’d nodded, and he’d gathered her into his arms. Then, the floodgates opened, and she'd sobbed like the child she was.

When she’d calmed down, Greg explained that they were still awaiting an update on Harry’s condition. Minerva, as Harry’s next of kin, had been contacted, and she was making arrangements to have him transferred to the United Kingdom as soon as he was stabilized. After hours of waiting, a Healer came into the waiting room. “Harry Potter’s family?” They looked up expectantly. “Harry’s going to recover, but he hasn’t been taking very good care of himself lately. We have a call in to the Department Head of our Mind Healing unit, but at present, we’ve been working to resolve his physical issues, which were primarily exhaustion, dehydration and some pretty alarming nutritional deficits.”

“Can we see him?” Draco asked. He knew that Cass would need to see that he was okay, and Greg’s explanation of Harry’s state when he’d found him had left Draco needing to see him as well.

“He’s sleeping, and will be for the next several days, but you can certainly look in and give him a hug. I expect that you’ll be needing to see him with your own eyes, won’t you, sweetheart?” The Healer had given Cass a kind smile, and she nodded.

The figure in the bed had been…terrible. It had barely looked like Harry. His face was grey, and slack, and there were deep rivets on his cheeks and arms that suggested he’d been clawing at himself at some point. Draco could smell the strong odour of Essence of Dittany. He’d certainly lost an alarming amount of weight, and with his slim stature, he looked skeletal. Whatever had happened since he’d come home, it was obvious that Harry had been in agony, all alone. Cass had climbed into bed with him, wrapping her arms around him, and whispering in his ear. She’d stroked whatever part of his face wasn’t coated in healing salve, and smoothed his tangled hair back. It had broken Draco’s heart, and he’d been so awash in guilt and shame, that he started when Greg’s strong arm wrapped around him. “Steady on, Draco,” he’d whispered. “That little girl needs you right now. I know that you’re probably feeling a lot of different things, but you can break down later. The best way you can help Harry is to take care of Cass.”

Much had changed since that day. Draco had focused on taking care of Cass. They flew a lot, and played chess, and the two of them had become a fixture within Diagon Alley, spending hours poring over books in Flourish and Blotts, and animatedly discussing Quidditch over ice cream at Fortesque’s. If Draco hadn’t already been entranced by this child, the time spent together had finished the job. She was so like Harry, loving wholeheartedly, and when her eyes lit up with passion over whatever subject had recently captured her interest, it was almost an embodiment of her Dad. But, Draco saw many of his own traits in the little girl. She had an innate ability to read a situation, and turn it to her advantage. She was quick-witted, and her dry sense of humour delighted Draco. 

But, it was watching her interact with Scorpius that gave Draco the most joy. Scorp had accepted Cass’ inclusion in their family easily, and he followed Cass around like a duckling. On the occasions where he was intractable, she could easily talk him around, and, since he’d recovered from his condition, he was finally able to learn to ride the broomstick that had become his most treasured possession. Cass patiently flew with him, staying close to the ground, and correcting his form with loving encouragement. She never grew tired of his incessant questions, and Scorpius had benefited from her dedication to schoolwork. His own study habits had improved dramatically.

Things were nearly perfect, were it not for two unresolved items. Cass had suffered from nightmares since discovering her Dad, incoherent in a closet, and she spent an hour each week with a Mind Healer, working through her trauma. Draco had also communicated his concerns about her tendency to try to take care of her Dad. A child, especially one with the amount of self-awareness that Cass possessed, can sense when those around them aren’t fully honest, and Harry had been carrying trauma, and guilt, and cripplingly low self esteem for her whole life. As a result, she’d sensed how they plagued him, and had overdeveloped her own independence, in an effort to reduce his burden. It showed remarkable emotional intelligence, and flexibility, but Draco worried that it had also developed a tendency to sublimate Cass’ own needs for the sake of those she cared about.

He wanted her to be a child, and to rely on the adults around her to take care of her. He’d seen that Harry had worried about the same things early on, but Harry had lacked the ability to provide her with true emotional safety. Draco had spent countless hours with Cass’ Healer, discussing her progress, and ways to support her. His dedication to these goals had solidified the relationship between them, and Draco was thrilled to see the progress they’d made together.

Harry’s condition was the other item that had cast a pall on his current happiness. Draco carried an enormous amount of guilt over his inability to see that Harry was so wounded. Inadvertently, he’d made things so much worse in the way he’d treated Harry during their relationship, and had solidified the damage by his actions when Harry had returned to England with Cass. Whether he’d intended to hurt Harry or not, Draco acknowledged that he had. Confronted by the impacts of his lack of caring, each week as he and Cass attended ‘Visitor’s Day’, it was impossible to ignore.

Harry was…different now. He was much quieter, except when he wasn’t, and those infrequent occasions were marked by Harry’s frantic attempts to impart as much information as possible. His easy, effortless relationship with Cass was different as well, and Draco mourned that as much as he mourned the Harry who used to look at the world with bright, trusting eyes. Cass, bless her, didn’t know how to relate to her Dad anymore. Where he was once the sun in her sky, he was relegated to a lesser celestial body now, and she was wary of him. 

She had, Draco realized, reached the inevitable part of a child’s life where they realized that their parents were human, fallible. Harry had struggled under the burden of hero worship his whole life, but Draco suspected that nothing stung as much as failing to meet the expectations of the person he loved the most. Harry never saw himself as a hero, but still struggled to live up to what he viewed as his responsibility. Admitting to himself that it wasn’t possible to succeed had taken its toll.

But that wasn’t everything. Certainly Harry had been humbled by his recent setbacks, but there was also a fundamental shift, somewhere at his core. He was a little less accommodating than he once was. He considered more before he spoke, and sometimes, if he wasn't sure, he’d simply decline to comment at all. At his base level, however, he was still the same funny, quirky man that Draco fell in love with, and it was hard to watch him as he eked out inconsistent progress, week by week.

But, there was no time for woolgathering today, as they both had appointments at Hedwig House. They apparated into the gardens, and Draco steadied Cass, who always stumbled upon landing. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Harry was waiting for them in the visitor’s lounge, standing in the corner, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Draco scanned his face, looking for progress, checking to see if the tense, drawn look had receded any. Harry smiled nervously at the sight of them, but waited for them to cross the room to him.

“Hi Dad,” Cass was shy around him now, and the tentative note in her voice caused Harry’s smile to wobble a little.

“Hi Cass,” he answered. In another life, they would be hugging, speaking a mile a minute to catch one another up on what had happened since the last time they spoke, but now they were polite. Draco burned with shame. He had caused this. No, he amended. He hadn’t caused this, but he’d blindly told himself that everything was fine, and Harry had been hurting all along.

“Hi Draco,” Harry said softly, and his eyes barely flickered to meet Draco’s before they flitted away. 

Harry was blushing, and it was so poignant that Draco wanted to prostate himself at Harry’s feet, beg for forgiveness. Instead, he simply said, “Hi Harry. Did you have a good week?”

“Yeah. Not bad. Cass, how was your test? Arithmancy, right?”

“It wasn’t a test,” Cass said sharply, and Draco longed to correct her, to warn her that she was breaking Harry’s heart every time she rejected his attempt to connect. “Just review with my tutor.”

“Oh. I…ah…never had a tutor. I thought it was like normal school.”

“No,” Cass said, but she didn’t elaborate, and Draco was desperate to smooth things over.

“Cass, why don’t you tell Harry about Quidditch?”

“I joined a local league,” she supplied, after a moment, during which Draco’s stomach churned.

“Oh wow,” Harry said. “That’s amazing. Are you a seeker?”

“Yeah. I caught the snitch three times in tryouts.”

“Cass, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.” He was, Draco could see. Because he was looking for it, Draco also saw that there was just a hint of longing, but mostly, Harry was thrilled that Cass was playing, that she was having fun. His smile was wide.

Cass watched him for a long moment, her eyes appraising. “Team Canada’s doing well,” she finally said, and it wasn’t much of an olive branch, but it was something. Harry’s smile widened a little, and Draco quirked his lips at Cass, a silent sign of support.

Draco cast a quick Tempus, and said, “It looks like it’s time. Cass, you ready?” She had her Mind Healer appointment.

“Yep, ready.” She touched Harry’s arm. “It was good to see you, Dad.”

“You too, little duck.” Cass flinched a bit at the pet name, but kept her smile firmly on her lips, and then waved as she headed to her Healer’s office.

Draco looked at Harry, who had dropped all pretence of normalcy and looked as though he were about to walk to his death. Again. His face was white and he was bouncing on his toes once more. His hands were tightly clenched, and he didn’t appear to be breathing at all.

“Harry,” Draco said. “It’s time. Let’s go?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Yeah, alright.”

Unsure whether it was the right thing to do, but deciding to take a risk, Draco reached for Harry’s hand. He looked startled, and his wide green eyes met Draco’s, but he didn’t pull away.

Miriam was waiting for them in a treatment room. She smiled at them both and beckoned them to sit. They perched uneasily on the couch next to one another, a wide gap between them. Harry looked as though he was about to pass out. Draco looked at Miriam in alarm. Was it too soon? Were they rushing Harry? Draco was surprised, however, when Harry took a deep breath, and then another, and said, “Miriam, I’d like to have Hank come to the session.”

“Of course, Harry. I’ll just go and ask him to join us,” Miriam said.

Jealousy bloomed in Draco’s mind for a moment. Who was Hank? Why did Harry need him? He wasn’t at all comfortable with a stranger being part of this. He was about to protest, but Harry, seeing the look on his face, said, “It’s okay, I promise.”

Miriam returned, followed by an enormous brown Labrador Retriever. He woofed happily at Harry and sat at his feet. “Hello, baby,” Harry said, and wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck. “Draco, this is Hank. He sometimes comes to sessions if I think I need help staying present. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” Draco said, relieved. He extended a hand to the dog, who sniffed him curiously before his tongue lolled out in a delighted doggy grin. Draco scratched his ears, and the dog’s tail thumped against the side of the sofa.

Harry smiled thinly at Miriam. “I’m ready to begin,” he said.

“Excellent. Draco, to begin with, I want to thank you for joining us today. It can be very helpful for those who are close to us to join in our sessions from time to time. I’m sure that Harry appreciates your support.”

“Yes, of course. Anything I can do to help.”

Miriam continued, “You’re here today for two reasons. Firstly, Harry thinks that it’s important for you to know what progress he’s made, which is considerable. He’s worked very hard during his time here, and I know that he’s excited to share that with you. Secondly, in the course of his treatment, Harry has uncovered a number of themes that he’s been struggling with, and he’s been working hard to name those themes, and identify what barriers they present for him.”

“Alright,” Draco said.

“At some points in the session, Harry or I might ask you some questions directly, but unless we do so, I’d like you to try to primarily listen to what Harry is saying. If you react strongly to what he’s telling you, we can take some time to explore it further, but where possible, this isn’t a session for you to rebut or invalidate what Harry is telling you. Does that make sense?”

“I’ll do my best,” Draco said. 

“Of course, that’s all I ask. Harry, why don’t you start by identifying your diagnoses for Draco?”

Harry nodded. “Primarily, I have post-traumatic stress disorder, which is a reaction to living through a traumatic circumstance. As you know, there are a few traumatic events that I’ve experienced, and so in my situation, it’s a bit difficult to narrow down when it originated for me. Because of that, I’ve overdeveloped a few coping methods-” Miriam made a little sound, and Harry’s mouth quirked. “I’ve overdeveloped a number of avoidance behaviours,” he corrected, “which allowed me to continue to function for quite a while without experiencing many overt symptoms.” He looked at Miriam, who beamed like a proud parent. He took a breath, and continued, “The breakdown I experienced after I left England occurred, likely because I didn’t have access to the outlet for my avoidance behaviours, and I had to confront the trauma directly.”

Draco nodded. “Thank you for telling me that, Harry.” Harry’s expression clouded a little, but he buried his hands into Hank’s fur, and kissed the top of his head.

Miriam was watching Harry closely. “Harry?” 

“I’m fi-” he huffed in frustration, gave her a look, and finally, quietly, to his chest, said, “I’m struggling because…” He huffed another breath and said, “I’m struggling because I’m not comfortable without receiving validation when I do something difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said. “Should I have done something differently?”

“No,” Miriam said. “You’re doing fine. Harry is working hard on validating his own progress, and not seeking it from others. 

Harry rolled his eyes, his face clearly showing distress. He bit his lip, and Draco wondered what he wasn’t saying. He looked beautiful, despite his discomfort. He was looking down at Hank, and his long lashes fanned across his cheekbones. His skin had regained a lot of their normal colouration, and, for the first time since Draco had known him, he wasn’t skinny. The treatment had been good for him, so far, and Draco wanted, so desperately, for him to be well.

“Harry? Are you ready to start to name some of the themes that have guided your behaviour over your life, and how they prevent you from achieving your goals?”

His eyes flashed to Miriam, and then he looked at Draco. He was petting Hank again, stroking, stroking the long, soft ears, looking as though he would give just about anything to be elsewhere. “Alright,” he said softly, and Draco was filled with admiration. Harry took a breath, and then said, “I have issues with abandonment. I try really hard to please people so that they won’t reject me, and when they leave me-” Miriam cleared her throat and frustration flitted across Harry’s expression before he corrected, “if I feel rejected, it validates all of the things I blame myself for. I carry a lot of guilt for those people who died during the war, and if someone gets angry with me, or when…” he swallowed, “when a relationship ends, I use those circumstances as validation for not deserving love in the first place.”

He was looking down at Hank again, and a single tear slid down his cheek and landed on the fuzzy head before Harry pressed his lips together and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Keep going, Harry,” Miriam said gently.

Harry sighed. “I have a hard time trusting people, both because I feel like their assistance is conditional, and because I have a hard time believing I deserve it in the first place. It isn’t easy for me to ask for or accept help from others. A lot of the decisions I’ve made in parenting Cass have been as a result of feeling like I have to go it alone. And…” A harsh sob escaped him, and he covered his face with his hands. Hank snuggled closer and put a heavy head on Harry’s knee. The tears flowed faster and Harry let them go for a moment, but then cleared his throat. Miriam passed him a handful of tissues, which he used to mop his face, and blow his nose. Draco watched as he swallowed, and then squared his shoulders. “And,” he said again, “this explains a lot of the decisions I’ve made as a parent, and also helps to explain why I broke down when I left England. Being Cass’ Dad was the way I defined myself, and when I didn’t have that anymore, I let myself believe that I had failed.”

Draco heard a pained noise escape him, and he frantically tried to reassemble his facial expression. It didn’t matter though, because Harry was looking down at Hank as though the secrets of the universe were buried within his fur.

“I tried really hard,” Harry confessed. “I tried so hard to give Cass a childhood that was different from mine. I wanted so much for her to feel like she had power over the decisions that impacted her, and to be a strong support when she needed it. It was really important to me not to perpetuate the cycle. It was so important that she felt safe to ask for what she needed, because…I’m not very experienced in asking for what I need. At the time, I didn’t realize that I was taking all of the pain and rejection I felt from my own childhood and trying to be the opposite of it. I didn’t see that I had starting defining myself as Cass’ Dad…as only Cass’ Dad, and when…”

This time, his tears were a lot more plentiful, and he wept into Hank’s back for several minutes, his shoulders shaking and his pain so tangible that Draco felt tears sliding down his own cheeks. He stayed where he was, uncomfortably perched on the edge of the sofa, desperate to reach out and take Harry into his arms, but a glance at Miriam warned him not to interfere. He clenched his fists, feeling his nails biting into the skin of his palms.

“Hold the thread, Harry. Name it,” Miriam urged.

“When I wasn’t her Dad anymore, I didn’t have anything left. Being a parent to Cass was the first thing that I ever wanted so much that I took it. Without asking, yes, and that was unfair, but it was the first time I had ever wanted something for myself more than I wanted to please other people. I justified it to myself, saying that I’d never get caught. That I could steal her away, and she would be just mine, and I’d never have to admit to you that I took from you.”

He looked up a Draco now, and his eyes, still tear-filled, were so green, and so desperately pained. “Of course it didn’t work like that. I chose to return to England, and I did have to admit that I’d gone about things in a terrible way. And when I saw the custody papers, it reinforced everything I’d been telling myself for years. That freaks aren’t allowed to ask for things. That saviours aren’t allowed to want something, especially if it takes it away from someone else.”

“Harry,” Draco said, and it sounded broken. He wanted desperately to explain, to make this pain go away.

“I didn’t mean to go back to Canada for good,” Harry said, as if he hadn’t heard Draco. “Not at first. I wanted to give you both some time, and I wanted to give myself some time, and then, when the hurt was a bit less raw, I could come back and give Cass some continuity. But as the days went by, her emails were sounding like she was doing okay. And I…wasn’t. Okay. And then…” Harry raised his hands in a hopeless gesture. “And I told myself that this was my punishment.”

Draco didn’t bother to try to wipe his tears away. The world had hurt this man, over and over, and Draco had never once considered the toll it had taken on him. In hindsight, everything that Harry did made so much more sense. More importantly, Draco felt the impact of his own actions in a way that had never occurred to him. They hadn’t been playing on a mutual field. Harry had never learned how to shield his soft parts. Harry was nothing _but_ soft parts, and he’d never been told that they were worth shielding.

“Oh,” Harry said, noticing Draco’s tears. “Oh. Oh, Draco, here. You can have my dog.” Draco laughed wetly, which prompted him to start crying in earnest. Harry nudged Hank over towards Draco, and the dog leaned his length against Draco’s leg.

Draco stroked the dog’s big, stupid, soft head, and then he said, “Harry, you are the kindest person I have ever met. We can share the dog, okay?” Draco wasn’t really talking about the dog, and he hoped that Harry understood that, but he didn’t know how to make it clear.

“Harry,” Miriam said, and Draco looked at her, aghast. He had honestly forgotten she was in the room, and was a little alarmed at having cried on a dog and experienced a life crisis in front of a stranger. “I’d like you to try something.”

“No thank you,” Harry said.

Miriam grinned. “Nice try. I don’t think it’s going to be easy either, but I think it will be so illustrative for you. I’d like you to imagine, for a moment, that there was nothing at all that would prevent you from getting what you’d most like in life.”

Harry made a face, and Miriam said, “You can make up a game later. This is my game, so my rules.”

That prompted the ghost of a smile. Miriam continued, “So? Are you there with me? Living in a world where you could have anything you wanted?”

“I’m trying,” Harry said.

“Alright. Here’s the hard part. I don’t want you to tell me any of the reasons why you can’t have it. If you feel really strongly about doing so, you can, later. Right now, all I want you to do is just name it. Name the thing you most want in the world.”

Harry looked as though he was about to throw up. He sat very still, his face white, and his eyes squeezed tightly closed. “I can’t look at anyone when I say it,” he warned.

“That’s fine. I just want you to say it out loud.”

“And nobody can laugh at me. If you laugh at me, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“We won’t laugh at you, Harry. We’re both here to help you.”

“And even though it’s stupid, don’t say so, okay?” Harry was begging now. Draco felt as though Harry was about to pluck out his heart and present it to them both. He supposed he was.

“Nobody will say anything. When you’re ready.”

When he finally spoke, it was more like a breath than a voice. Draco leaned closer, desperate to hear what Harry’s heart desired most. “Cass,” he said softly. “A family. A proper family where I feel like I’m part of it, not watching from the edges.” Miriam seemed to ignore Draco’s agonized look.

“Can we be done?” Harry begged. “I want to see if Cass is still here, and I want a cup of tea and to be alone.”

“I’m sorry, Harry, Cass has likely already gone home, but yes, you may leave if you want,” Miriam said. “I’d like to speak with Draco for a little while anyway.”

Harry escaped gratefully to the door, but before closing it, he popped his head back in. “Draco? I didn’t say, but…thank you. For everything, really.”

“You’re welcome,” Draco replied. As the door shut firmly behind Harry, Hank edged closer to Draco, who was looking at Miriam with wide eyes. “That…was excruciating.”

“Yes, it can be. It’s very difficult to see the people that we love in pain, and Harry has had more than the average person.” 

“I didn’t realize,” Draco said. “I knew about everything he’s been through, but I didn’t understand how it impacted him.”

“Harry is quite good at masking his pain,” Miriam agreed. “When a child is told he’s worthless, he comes to believe that his feelings don’t matter. So he’s always-”

“Fine,” Draco said. “I cringe, every time I hear him say that. So what now? How do I help him?”

“You can’t know this, not having been a part of his sessions so far, but Harry had made a great deal of progress. When he came to us, he wouldn’t have been able to articulate any of the things he did today, and he stayed remarkably calm while doing so.”

“That was calm? He cried! He cried the whole time.”

“That in itself is progress, Draco. Harry was taught that he wasn’t allowed to cry. It was painful for him, today, showing such vulnerability in front of you, but he stayed through the session, he didn’t disassociate, he asked for Hank to come when he felt he needed support. Those are all really positive actions.”

“I want to give it to him, you know. I want to give him everything, really, but the family? That’s what I want too.”

Miriam smiled. “It would be lovely if it worked out that way. I care about all of my patients, but there’s something rather special about Harry.”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed. “There is.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! Thank you for the kind comments on the last chapter, and for sticking with me, week after week as I posted this angst-fest. This is the last chapter, with a short epilogue to follow next week. I've loved writing this story, and I've especially loved talking some of you down from the ledge as you navigated the complicated twists and turns of two damaged men who did crappy things to one another, but were still, ultimately, deserving of a happy ending. 
> 
> To those of you who thought that Harry was a massive pushover who just needed to STAND UP FOR HIMSELF FOR ONCE IN HIS DAMNED LIFE, I hope that he manages to do just that for you.
> 
> To those of you who wanted to bounce Draco's head off of the nearest wall for just being so fucking CLUELESS and STUPID and oh god, Draco just use your head and your WORDS for once, I hope that his character arc has been a satisfying one for you too.
> 
> For those of you who just enjoyed reading a ridiculous Lucius Malfoy, I'm still not quite done with him, and maybe someday he and Narcissa will get a ficlet of their own.
> 
> And for those of you who experienced none of these things, thank you for reading this anyhow, and I hope you found a nugget of something that spoke to you.
> 
> Hugs 'n kisses,  
> Peach.
> 
> ****

Steam rose as the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station. Draco looked fondly on as Cass’ face lit up. She clutched an owl cage in her hand tightly, and stood on the balls of her toes, rocking back and forth slightly. Draco wondered if she was aware that she shared this habit with her Dad. Her face tipped up to look at him. “He’s coming, right?”

“He said he was,” Draco said. “We’re a bit early.” He was careful not to promise her, but his stomach was a tight knot. He knew that Harry would do everything he could to be there, but he’d also learned not to make any assumptions. Some days were great, and other days were difficult, and this was a bittersweet milestone. It was entirely possible that the mixed emotions had proven too much for Harry. But it was important. To Cass, certainly, but also to Draco. He wanted Harry here. But, he reasoned, Harry would be here, or he wouldn’t, and worrying about it wouldn’t change anything.

He spied Scorpius and Astoria making their way along the platform, which was becoming crowded with students and families. Scorpius cried out in delight when he saw them, and raced amongst trunks and people and owl cages until he reached their side. “Cass,” he called, excitement bubbling over. “Do you see the Hogwarts Express?”

“I see it, Score,” Cass said, giving her brother a tight hug.

“And you’ll owl me? I want to know what house you’re in.”

“Of course. I’ll owl everyone. But I’ll be Ravenclaw,” Cass said with confidence.

Just then, the sound of pounding feet caused everyone to turn. “Harry!” Scorpius was thrilled to see him, and threw himself into waiting arms.

“Hi Scorp,” Harry said. “You’re excited for Cass’ big day?”

“Yeah! I wish I could go!”

“Your day will come soon,” Draco said. His eyes met Harry’s, and he scanned anxiously to see what conclusions he could draw of Harry’s emotional state.

“You good, Draco?” Harry smiled widely.

“I’m good, Harry,” Draco said, suffused with relief. Harry was okay. 

“Little duck?” Harry had turned to his daughter.

“We agreed that you’d stop calling me that,” she teased, and wrapped her arms around his middle.

“We agreed that I’d be allowed an exception on very emotional days. This counts,” Harry argued. He kissed the top of her head. “Let me look at you.” Cass spun in a circle, her Hogwarts robes billowing behind her. “Oh yes, you look a proper little swot already. You know that you’ll be on the train for hours, right? You don’t need to wear your robes until you’re close to arriving.”

“A Malfoy always looks well-groomed,” she replied primly, and Harry laughed.

“How do you explain the hair, then?”

Cass tugged a lock of her wild curls and sighed. “Genetics. Honestly, Dad, all the things I could get from you, and I ended up with your hair?”

“Could be worse,” Draco argued. “You might have inherited Harry's Gryffindor tendencies.”

“Perish the thought,” Harry said, his lip quirking. His expression became a bit more solemn. “What’s your number, Cass?”

Cass thought for a moment. “Four,” she said.

Harry nodded approvingly. “What’s yours?” Cass asked.

“Six,” Harry said. “I’m going to miss you something awful. But I’m so proud of you, and so excited. Besides, you’ll have Auntie Min and Uncle Professor to keep you in line.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” Cass said quietly. “Are you going to be okay?”

Harry took her hand. “Come here for a sec.” He led her over to a quieter corner and kneeled down in front of her, looking up into her face. Draco made half-hearted conversation with Astoria and Scorpius, but watched closely. Cass was nodding, and Harry spoke earnestly. He smoothed down the front of her robes, and then stood, and pulled her close. He said something else, and she laughed, and nodded her head. They began to walk back to where Draco was waiting, but she stopped, and then threw her arms around Harry again. Their last hug was short, but fierce. 

“Are you ready, Cass? It’s nearly time,” Draco said. Cass nodded, her face a little nervous. “You’re going to be extraordinary,” Draco told her, and she smiled brilliantly at him for a moment.

She reached up, a little cautiously, and embraced him. As he held her tight, she whispered, “Love you, Papa,” into his ear. She’d never said it before. Draco had begun telling her that he loved her early on…an unexpected side effect of suddenly taking full-time custody of one’s ten-year-old daughter. Cass had been so fragile-looking after what Harry had gone through, that he couldn’t help but spend a lot of time reassuring her how loved she was. Cass had been demure. She’d kissed his cheek a few times, and had hugged him goodnight without fail, but she’d never once told him that she loved him.

“Love you too, cheri,” he said quietly. Her eyes sparkled a little before she kissed Astoria and Scorpius, and lugged her trunk onto the train.

Astoria and Scorpius left right away. Scorpius had Junior Quidditch, and Astoria needed to finish a brief. Harry and Draco remained on the platform, watching as the train pulled away, and disappeared down the track. Harry seemed ill at ease once Cass had gone. Draco asked, “How are you doing?”

“I’m a bit melancholy, but very proud,” Harry said, after a moment’s thought. 

Draco smiled. “I understand that feeling. Did she tell you that we found her a math and science tutor?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his expression fond. “That’s brilliant. I assume that they’re willing to work with her via owl?”

“In a fashion. Cass will owl her assignments to me, and I’ll send them via Muggle post to her tutor.”

“That’s good. Really good. I never thanked you,” Harry said.

Draco frowned. “No thanks are necessary, Harry. She’s our daughter. I’d do anything for her, to help her succeed.”

“Not her. I know you would. I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Oh,” Draco thought about it for a moment, and then decided to risk it. “I’d do anything for you as well.”

Harry’s smile was lovely, Draco noticed absently. It blossomed across his face, leaving behind an enchanting flush. “I like hearing that,” he admitted. 

Draco looked around the platform, noting that it had largely emptied. There was one family who remained at the opposite end, the mother leaning against the wall. Her hands were over her face, and her husband was ineffectually trying to comfort her. “I suppose we should go,” he said.

“Oh,” Harry was surprised as he too looked around. “Yeah, I reckon.”

“Did you…” Draco decided that today was a day for risks. “Would you like to have lunch with me? If you’re free?”

“I’m free. And yeah, I’d like to,” Harry said. His face had flushed further, and Draco was so charmed by the sight that he stumbled a little as they headed to the floo. 

He chose a nearby Wizard restaurant, and when they were seated, and had ordered drinks, he regarded Harry across the table. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” Draco said. “You look good. Healthy.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied. “I’m doing well.” He ducked his head shyly. “I’m proud.”

“You should be, Harry. If it doesn’t sound too condescending, I’m proud of you too.” It was true. Harry had worked hard over the previous five months. Draco had continued to attend some of his therapy sessions, and Cass had attended some as well. The sessions were difficult, as Harry exorcised his pain, and rebuilt his foundations. When Hedwig House had pronounced him capable of living independently, he’d found a flat near Draco’s house, and had focused on continuing to heal while being confronted with reminders of his past. As with everything he committed to, however, Harry was dedicated, and he had made incredible strides on rebuilding his relationship with his daughter, with the Weasleys, and with Draco.

“I’ve started doing some freelance work for Ollivanders,” Harry said.

“Are you enjoying it?”

“I am. I love wandcrafting, and it’s nice to be back where I had a lot of happy times.”

Draco kept the conversation light, and far away from all of the things he really wanted to know. _Are you dating anyone? Do you still love me? Will I pine for you for the rest of my life?_

After their meals, the waiter brought coffee, and dessert, and Draco noticed that Harry was watching him carefully. “I’d like to ask you for something,” he said finally.

“Please do.”

Harry bit his lip for a moment, and gathered his thoughts. “When we were together, my love for you was all-consuming. It was the definition of my life. You were the sun, and the moon for me.”

He paused for so long that Draco thought he was looking for an answer. “I’m so-”

“No, no, we’ve hashed that all out, you don’t need to say anything,” Harry said. “This is just hard. It’s scary to say this.” He continued, “I don’t think that a relationship like that would be healthy for me. I know that I need to define my life on my own terms.”

Draco suppressed a disappointed sigh. Clearly he hadn’t been doing a good enough job of hiding his feelings, and Harry was letting him down gently. Perhaps Harry was going to tell him of a new boyfriend. At least Draco still had the kids to focus on. Anyway, Harry deserved the best. He deserved a wonderful partner, someone who would treasure him, and put him first. Someone who chose him over everything.

“Draco?” Yanked back from his thoughts, Draco looked up. Harry’s eyes were incredibly beautiful. Draco didn’t think he’d ever seen such a lovely shade of green in his life. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, sorry. Please, continue.” Draco braced himself for the words.

“But I do want a relationship, Draco. And I want one with the person that I’ve been in love with since I was eighteen years old. I just…I hope that we can talk about it, and work to have the kind of relationship that works for us,” Harry said earnestly. Draco was pretty sure that his mouth was hanging open. It was terribly undignified, and he desperately wanted to change that, but he seemed to have lost the ability to control his body. “Unless,” Harry continued, looking a bit unsure, “unless you’re not interested. I’d totally understand. We have a lot of history, and it might be easier for you to choose someone more suited.”

Harry appeared as though he was going to talk himself right out of a relationship at all, and Draco blurted out, “No!” Harry jumped a little, startled. Perhaps that had been a little louder than Draco intended. “No,” he said, more quietly. “I am. Interested. I’m very interested. I…”. He trailed off, gathering his courage to continue. “I never got over you, Harry. You’re like a part of my DNA by now. I’m interested, and I want to make it work for us both.”

This prompted another one of those brilliant smiles of Harry’s, and he said, “Good. We’ll take it slow, figure things out together.” 

“Alright.” Draco’s heart thudded swiftly in his chest. He could feel a pleased little smile curling his lips. Slow. Take it slow.

Later, as they parted at the apparation point, Harry reached for Draco. His arms encircled him, and with his chest held close against Harry’s he felt like he was in the exact place he was meant to be, for the first time in his life. The gentle press of Harry’s lips against his felt like a promise, one that Draco would do anything to ensure was kept.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the epilogue. Thanks bunches to everyone who's read and commented, and enjoyed. I've got a bunch of works in progress that I hope to finish soon, so it shouldn't be too long before I'm posting another story. Stay safe everyone!
> 
> ***

The Hogwarts Express had already arrived by the time that they walked through the pillar. Children were piling from the doors, and there was a noisy, excited buzz as families everywhere reconnected. Draco was glad for his height, as it allowed him to peer over the crowds and keep an eye out. “Do you see them?” The voice next to him was brimming with excitement.

“Not yet. Any minute now, I’m sure.”

“Draco!” Hermione’s voice was distinctive, loud above the noise that filled the platform. “Harry!”

Harry’s face broke into a wide smile, and he turned in the direction of the voice. Hermione was elbowing her way through the crowd, intent on reaching them as efficiently as possible. Behind her, Ron’s bright red hair was visible, trying in vain to make his way politely in their direction.

“‘Mione!” Harry launched himself, as best he could, into her arms. She held him tight, and then gripped him by the arms and thrust him away from herself. 

“Let me look at you! Oh, Harry, how is it that you look so amazing? Honestly, I’m dead jealous.”

“You look like you swallowed a quaffle,” Ron, who had finally reached them, said.

“Well, your arse looks like two bludgers in a sack, and you’re not eight months pregnant,” Harry said, a little bite to his voice. Ron feigned offence, but then laughed, and hugged his best mate. Harry normally took the ribbing with good humour, but he’d outgrown his last set of magically expanded jeans the week prior, and was a little sensitive.

“Dad! Papa!” As Draco heard the familiar voice, he looked through the crowd, and saw two distinctive heads of hair on their way towards them. Cass was leading, the bright blue trim on her robes setting off her complexion beautifully. She’d grown again, Draco noticed, and her face had taken on the countenance of a woman’s.

Scorpius wasn’t far behind. His face was red with heat and exertion of dragging his trunk, and he was already pulling his Slytherin robes over his head. “Darlings,” Draco said, as he was immediately squeezed into a tight hug from his daughter, then his son.

They quickly moved on to Harry. “Daddy,” Cass said. “I thought you wouldn’t make it to meet us!”

“I wouldn’t miss it, little duck. Nothing would stop me.”

“I thought Orion might,” Cass admitted, poking her father’s baby bump with affection. “But he’s already proving to be a superior younger brother, since he waited for me to get home before being born.”

“Oi,” Scorpius said. “I’ll always be the superior younger brother.”

“Maybe,” Cass admitted, tousling his artfully arranged hair. He glared at her, but she ignored him and said, “Dad, Auntie Min stopped me before I caught the train.”

“And?”

“I got it.”

Harry’s eyes glowed. “Oh, little duck, I knew you would! Draco! Head Girl next year!”

“Of course,” Draco said smugly. “I never doubted.”

Hugo arrived, was greeted by all, and the Weasley-Grangers left soon after, having promised to meet Rose for dinner. 

Harry shrunk Scorpius’ robes for him, and placed them in his pocket, prompting a “Thanks, Dad,” before he raced off to say one last goodbye to his mates. Harry and Cass chattered a mile a minute, trying to catch one another up on everything that had happened in the three days since they’d last exchanged owls. Draco looked on, not feeling the need to engage in the conversation. Sometimes, he just liked to watch.

They finally managed to retrieve Scorpius, and headed towards the floo, Draco making sure that he had Harry’s arm. He was ungainly at this stage of his pregnancy, and Draco admitted to being a little overprotective. It was mad, really, to be having another baby at this age, with their kids both in Hogwarts. But Draco couldn’t find it in him to feel any apprehension. He was enjoying seeing Harry pregnant, and looking forward to getting to know the newest Potter-Malfoy from the moment he was born.

Harry, sensing his introspective mood, stood on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You good, Draco?”

“I’m good, Harry”

Finite.


End file.
